


Call It A Knight

by Aerle



Category: One Piece
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied Sexual Content, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Middle Ages, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 11:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11035761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerle/pseuds/Aerle
Summary: Shanks can never really get over the vanishing of his prince, and Ace thinks robbing knights is a good idea.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the One Piece Big Bang 2017. The art was made by the lovely [saltychihuahua](http://saltychihuahua.tumblr.com/post/161256167598/onepiece-bigbang-2017-fanart-for-story-call-it-a) and will be added shortly. Make sure to like and reblog her art!
> 
> Please check the tags for warnings. 
> 
> I've written two ficlets in the same universe that take place before this story. Click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3112298/chapters/14574691) for Roger and Rouge's story and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3112298/chapters/13458700) for more about Garp. However, each story is independantly readable.

“Make way, make way!” Shanks called out as he sprinted through the halls, stopping every once in a while to shake someone and call, “The queen is having a baby!” Only to run off again.

It was a very exciting time for all of them, both in a good and a bad way. The king was dying, but at least his heir was about to be born. Of course, Shanks wasn’t allowed inside the room, but he was bouncing up and down outside of it, much to Buggy’s chagrin. Both of them had been under Roger’s care since they were children, and both having been knighted recently. They were still young, but they had wanted to be knighted by Roger, so the king had indulged them. There was no one Shanks loved more than the king and queen, and now they were about to become parents.

A scream came from inside the room, as the Queen was obviously in pain, and Shanks pulled a face. He hated that he couldn’t be her knight in shining armour. This was something he couldn’t help her with. But the queen was strong and healthy, so she would make it through.

Another groan cut through the air, and suddenly, there was the sound of a crying baby. Shanks’ eyes widened, as did Buggy’s, and Shanks knew they both had teared up when he wrapped his arms around Buggy’s neck and hugged him tightly.

After what seemed like forever, the door finally opened and Makino, Queen Rouge’s handmaiden, stuck her head around the corner. “If you stop bouncing, Her Majesty might be so kind to let you see your new prince.”

Shanks tried to calm down, failing miserably as he hugged Makino too.

“Let them in, Makino. Shanks might burst if you don’t and we can’t afford to lose such a great knight.” Rouge’s voice sounded hoarsely and tired. She smiled at Shanks as he entered, trying to be calm, but still with a skip in his step. She was sweaty, but looked so happy when she cradled her new born son. “His father should be the first to see him, but I’m sure he’ll forgive the two of you, seeing how fond he is of you,” she said with a smile.

Shanks came to a stop next to the bed, tears welling up in his eyes as he looked at the tiny little human. Around him, midwives were cleaning up, but he didn’t pay them any heed. “May I?” he whispered, almost shocked when Rouge handed him her child. It spoke volumes about how much she trusted him. With trembling hands, he cradled the sleeping baby in his arms. He was obviously a son of Roger and Rouge, with the queen’s nose and the king’s chin. “What’s his name?” he asked softly, afraid to wake the child.

“Roger,” Rouge replied. “He looks a lot like him, doesn’t he?”

Shanks didn’t mention he saw even more of Rouge in the child and just held it closely. Buggy stood next to him, obviously unsure of what to do. Shanks handed him the baby, but he took a step back.

“No, no. I’m not a baby person.”

“You’re missing out,” Shanks said with a shrug. “Besides, I’m sure he’ll love your nose.”

“WHO HAS A–” Buggy was immediately shushed by all the women and Shanks. Fortunately, Roger II slept through it. “Who has a big red nose?” Buggy finished in a whisper.

Shanks chuckled and handed Queen Rouge her son back. “I’m sure you need some rest, Your Majesty. We’ll inform the king that his son is healthy.”

“Thank you,” Rouge replied, her eyelids half closed. “If he is up to it, please ask him to come see his son, but if not, I will go to him after I have rested.”

Shanks left with a bow, followed by Buggy. Shanks let out a happy sigh and Buggy tried to ignore him as they made their way through the hall. “Can you believe Roger has an heir?” Shanks asked happily. “He’s gonna be strong. He has to be, with those two as his parents.”

* * *

Rouge was immediately let through by the guard standing in front of the king’s bedroom door, the baby cradled in her arms. Ever since she had seen her son for the first time, she hadn’t managed to get the smile off her face. This was her child, Roger’s son, the boy who would become king when he was grown up.

Inside the room, it was warm and somewhat stuffy. Rayleigh, the seneschal, was as always at the king’s side, and he bowed when he saw her. Roger sat up a little in his four-poster bed, smiling tiredly. “My love, my sincerest apologies you have to come to me after what you have achieved. You should be in bed, resting.”

“I have rested, my lord,” she replied and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Besides, a father should see his son.” She showed him the baby.

Roger was silent for a moment, stretching out his trembling hand and caressing the baby’s head. “Look at that,” he whispered hoarsely. “I have a son.”

“I named him after you.” Rouge moved, the smile still on her face, so she was lying next to Roger on the bed. “Roger. He will grow up to be as strong as you.”

Roger smiled, his eyes fluttering shut. “The world will not know what’s coming. Take good care of him, Rouge.”

Her smile wavered a little as tears filled her eyes. “Don’t speak as such, my king. You will live to see him grow up. You will teach him everything he needs to know.”

Roger hummed, but didn’t reply. He had fallen asleep, as he often did these days.

Rayleigh helped her up and guided her out of the room. “His Majesty needs his rest. As does my Queen, I imagine.”

“I’m fine, Rayleigh.” She took a deep breath. “Do you not wish to hold your prince?”

Rayleigh smiled warmly. “I assumed His Majesty should be the first man to hold his son.”

“He was already beaten to the punch.”

Rayleigh started to laugh, softly not to wake the child. “Let me guess, Shanks? That kid hasn’t been able to sit still in a long time due to excitement. He will make a great role model for your son, though.”

“As will you, Rayleigh.” Gently, she handed him the baby.

Rayleigh’s face softened as he looked at the child. He was Roger’s oldest servant and closest friend. “Well then,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Hello, boy. Welcome to the world.”

* * *

Unfortunately, the king would never see his son grow up. Barely a week after Roger II was born, Roger I died in his bed. Rouge put on a brave face, her back straight as she listened to the priest during the funeral, but she knew things were going to get difficult for her. Emperor Sengoku hadn’t been too fond of Roger, but he had been to powerful to overtake. That was the reason they had kept Roger’s illness under wraps. If someone had found out and told the emperor, he wouldn’t have hesitated to attack.

However, now that Roger had died, they could no longer pretend everything was fine. Rouge looked around the church. Next to her, Makino was sitting with Roger II in her arms, and on her other side was Rayleigh. His strong presence, which reminded her a little of Roger, reassured her a little. Shanks and Buggy were close too. They were eager to serve her as loyally as they had Roger, but they were still young.

King Edward the Giant of the neighbouring kingdom had come to the funeral as well, and Rouge was grateful for that. He and Roger had never been friends, but one could hardly call them enemies either. They had had great respect for one another. In addition, Edward was hardly liked by the emperor either. Rouge knew she had an ally in him.

Emperor Sengoku had not been able to be present, but he had sent his representative, a man named Garp, to convey her the emperor’s sincerest condolences. Rouge had accepted them gracefully, but she knew very well why Garp really was here. He was sent as a spy, to see if their kingdom had indeed weakened.

Of course, the emperor would think so. Rouge, a woman, was in charge now, and Roger’s rightful heir was only an infant. Honestly, the only reason the emperor had not yet tried to take over their kingdom was because of war etiquette; they would get the chance to grieve and bury their king first. After that, the emperor would show no mercy. But if he’d think she’d take it lying down, he was mistaken.

Because of Garp’s presence, as well as for the people who followed her blindly, Rouge had to act brave, even if she felt like crying her eyes out. Her king, her husband, her love, Roger was dead and from now on, she had to lead the country on her own.

No, she wasn’t alone. Rayleigh was at her side and he always would, as well as her loyal knights. She wouldn’t let her kingdom, Roger’s legacy, be taken away from her, from her son. Roger II would become king once he was old enough to lead a country. Until then, the kingdom was in her hands. If Emperor Sengoku wouldn’t show any mercy, neither would she.

Roger II started crying, and a wet nurse took him. While Rouge knew it was only to feed him, it was hard to see her son being taken away. She bit her lip and closed her eyes as she tried to hold it together. A strong arm held her up inconspicuously, and she sent Rayleigh a grateful look. She knew this was as hard for him as it was for her. He had lost his best friend and his lord. Now more than ever she was grateful to have him by her side.

* * *

After the funeral, Rouge found herself in the throne room, surrounded by people. She would prefer to be alone in her room with her son, but she couldn’t just yet. In a few hours, after the banquet in Roger’s honour, then she would have time to be alone and cry her eyes out.

Yet another noble offered his condolences as he bowed before her, and she forced a pleasant smile on her face. He also congratulated her with the birth of her son and swore to loyalty to him. It was a hollow promise, but Rouge was forced to accept it.

King Edward was announced, and Rouge perked up a little. He should have been one of the first to come to her, but Rayleigh had told her the king had spent some extra time at Roger’s grave. It was a sign of respect, and Rouge was grateful for it.

King Edward strode into the room. It never ceased to amaze Rouge how big of a man he was. He didn’t have the epithet ‘the Giant’ for nothing. Edward’s aura radiated confidence and demanded respect, but Rouge also knew how gentle he could be, especially with children.

Edward was followed by several of his knights. Her eye fell on the one in front, a kid barely old enough to shave, yet he already held the title of seneschal. Edward must have a lot of faith in him. She couldn’t remember his name, though.

Edward halted in front of her, and Rouge rose from her throne. They were of equal rank, and Rouge was determined to give him as much respect as he gave her.

“Please, my lady,” Edward said gently, “you have had a hard day.” He bowed his head, and she mirrored his action as she sat back down. The knights behind the king knelt down.

“You have my sincerest condolences,” Edward spoke. “Roger was a good man, and a good king.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything. Even though she had heard the same words over and over today, Edward was the only one who made them sound sincere.

“Congratulations with the birth of your son. Your kingdom will be safe in his hands, and yours, I’m sure.”

Rouge nodded again. She was exhausted after this day, and all she wanted was to sleep. Still, if anyone deserved to see Roger II, it was Edward. She beckoned Makino, who was holding her child.

Edward’s face softened as he took the baby from her, and Rouge almost laughed when he started to coo. It looked ridiculous, such a large man holding a tiny baby. While Rouge knew about his soft spot for children, Edward was known as a warrior king, yet now he was making funny faces to make her son smile. It worked, though, as Roger started to crow with delight and stretched out his hands to grab Edward’s long blond hair.

The seneschal stood on his tiptoes to have a look as well. Edward cast a questioning look at Rouge, who nodded. If Edward trusted the boy, so did she.

Edward handed the child to his wide-eyed seneschal. He took Roger as if he was holding the most valuable thing in the world, which, to Rouge, he was.

Immediately, the other knights swarmed around the seneschal to see the baby as well. They were all cooing and waving as if he was their own new brother. It was as endearing as it was silly, all those fearsome warriors cooing over her son, and Rouge couldn’t help it. She started to laugh. Everyone in the hall stared at her, because it was rather inappropriate, but she couldn’t stop herself. Tears streamed down her freckled cheeks. Suddenly, Edward’s booming laugh was filling the hall as well, and many others followed his example. Roger II crowed happily.

Rouge wiped the tears from her face as she finally managed to calm herself. She hadn’t laughed like that in a long time, not since before Roger had gotten ill. It felt really good.

Edward’s seneschal carried Roger back to Rouge and she took him with a grateful smile. Before someone else could make a move, though, Rayleigh announced that the queen would rest until dinner. No one argued, and everyone bowed as Rouge strode past them carrying her son and followed closely by Makino.

* * *

Shanks wasn’t sure if there was something in the air, but somehow, he felt restless. It was a few weeks after Roger’s funeral, and things had returned to normal, or as normal as could be without their king. Queen Rouge had taken over the leadership, though, and she was doing a wonderful job, perhaps even better than Roger had.

They had expected the emperor’s army ever since the funeral had ended, so Rouge had set up extra patrols near the border, while as well taking care of the poor and sick in the country. She was very popular amongst the people, as she was among the knights. They would all follow her blindly. It was possible that the emperor had heard as much, as he hadn’t sent the expected army. He wanted Rouge’s lands, but he didn’t want to spill too much blood, or so Shanks speculated.

The fact that Sengoku hadn’t come yet didn’t mean that they let their guard down, though.

Roger II was shooting up and doing very well. He ate so much that he needed a second wet nurse, but it did mean he was strong. Shanks was proud to call him his prince. His prince who pooped a lot.

Still, tonight, Shanks couldn’t shake the feeling that something very bad was about to happen. It was the beginning of March and the snow started to melt away. While that meant it was the beginning of spring, it also meant it would be easier for an army to march up to a castle and besiege it. Was that it? Was Sengoku coming?

Unable to stay in bed, Shanks started to wander around the halls. He passed a few guards who didn’t pay him any heat. Lost in thoughts, Shanks realised he was near the queen’s quarters, when he suddenly heard a shriek. It came from the direction of the nursery.

Shanks didn’t hesitate a second and burst through the door. Makino was standing next to the crib, her hands covering her mouth.

“I swear! I was only gone for a second!” she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes.

“What’s wrong? What happened to Roger?” Shanks fought the urge to shake her when she didn’t reply immediately. He would never harm a lady, though. Instead, he looked in the crib. It was empty. He whipped around towards the window, the shutters flapping in the wind. Shanks ran towards the window and peered outside. It was too dark to see anything. He cursed loudly.

Roger II had been the only thing keeping Rouge from breaking down. If her son had disappeared, it would destroy her.

“Go wake Rayleigh!” he called over his shoulder to Makino as he ran towards the door. “I’m going after this bastard!”

He didn’t wait to see if she would do as she was told – she would, he knew, as she was a smart woman, and waking Rayleigh was the smart thing to do. In the hallway, Shanks passed the same guards. “With me!” he shouted. Despite his young age, he commanded a lot of respect, and they listened to him without question. “You, bring me a sword!” Shanks called over to a random page. He cursed himself for not bringing one in the first place. He should have listened to his instincts.

He ordered another page to saddle his horse. By now, most of the castle was awake, as someone was sounding the alarm bells. Briefly, Shanks wondered if Rouge had already heard that her son was missing. If she had, he wouldn’t keep her in distress for long. He would find the bastard responsible for taking their prince.

* * *

Carefully, Garp looked at the small bundle in his arms. The child was a heavy sleeper, it hadn’t even woken up when Garp was fleeing the castle. It was a good thing, because keeping a baby quiet was a hard feat.

Garp didn’t like this assignment one bit. Of course he was loyal to the emperor, but to murder an innocent baby? Even if the whole council had agreed that was what had to be done, when push came to shove, he didn’t have the heart for it, which was why he had taken the child with him.

He looked at the adorable little face again. It was hard to imagine that this was Roger’s son. Roger had inherited these lands from his father, who had inherited from his father before that. This was what annoyed the current emperor so much; because the lands were given by one of his ancestors to one of Roger’s ancestors, he couldn’t take them away from him and place of his own loyal subjects on the throne.

By killing his heir, Sengoku killed two birds with one stone. It would of course eliminate the rightful heir to the throne, as well as break Rouge. Sengoku had underestimated her strength and the loyalty of her people. He might be able to win the war, but not without facing major losses himself. Not to mention that King Edward would probably come to Rouge’s aid. He still might, even without a heir, though.

Garp sighed deeply and spurred on his horse. He couldn’t kill the child, but he had to make sure no one ever found it. Not Rouge and not Sengoku. If the latter got his hands on the baby, he might not kill it himself, but he would someone with a stronger stomach than Garp do it.

It was a long journey, but finally, Garp arrived at the place he would leave baby Roger. The hut was well hidden, but that was the intention of a robbers’ den. The heir would never be found here, and Garp’s conscience would be clear.

With his fist, he pounded on the door. When Dadan opened the door with a sour look on her face, Garp shoved the baby into her arms. “Take care of him.”

“Eh, what?!” Dadan looked down as if he had just handed her a severed head. “What is this?”

“It’s a baby. Take care of him,” he grunted.

“Why?”

“Because I’m telling you to,” Garp grouched. “You’ll get compensation for his expenses, but otherwise you should be glad I don’t point the sheriff in your direction.” He turned to leave.

“Wait!” she called after him. He was about to snap at her, when she asked, “What’s his name?”

“R–” Garp could barely stop himself in time. If he said Roger, she might catch on once the story of the disappeared heir came out. Though he doubted the news would travel all the way here, he should be cautious. So he blurted out the first name that came to mind. “It’s Ace.”

* * *

It was well into the next night when the knights finally returned to the castle. They had not managed to find the intruder. Initially, Shanks had found traces of a horse, but they had lost them in the forest.

Shanks was afraid to face his queen. Rayleigh rode next to him, his face pale and uncharacteristically serious.

Makino was waiting for them at the drawbridge, wringing her hands. When she saw their faces, she covered her mouth with her hand.

Rayleigh dismounted and handed Shanks the reigns. “I will inform Her Majesty.”

For once, Shanks didn’t mind it that Rayleigh treated him like a squire. He didn’t envy Rayleigh for being the one to break the queen’s heart, after dealing with such a great loss already.

Shanks dismounted as well and took both his and Rayleigh’s horse by the reigns. His free arm he wrapped around Makino, who was weeping. Of course she blamed herself, but really, there had been nothing she could have done. The intruder had smartly waited until she had turned her back before stealing the young prince.

It seemed that the kingdom of Raftel had lost both its king and its heir.


	2. Chapter 1

Snow was falling down, and Shanks winced when a flake tickled his nose. Winter wasn’t the best time for him to be out and about, but it couldn’t be helped. After all, it was on New Year’s day that his prince had been born, now twenty years ago. Queen Rouge had never been able to accept the fact that her son was gone, probably for good.

After their initial search where they came up with nothing, many of the knights had gone out again to find their tiny prince. They searched far and wide, but it had been Buggy who found the bloodied blanket that once had belonged to little Roger. Yet there had been no sign of the baby.

Shanks knew it was probably foolish, but he agreed with his queen that there might be hope that Roger II was still alive. After all, why would someone take the little prince only to kill him miles and miles away from the castle? Shanks knew why someone would want Roger II dead, he was the heir to the throne, after all. But why take him then? Did he get too annoying? Roger hadn’t been much of a crier, but he did eat a lot.

Still, the blanket had implied a violent death, with the amount of blood present. And if he was killed, where was the body? Why would someone take it? Or would it have been eaten by wild animals already? Shanks was pretty sure there would have been more evidence than just the bloodied blanket, like drag marks and bones.

Even if he tried to rationalise the problem away, there was always this nagging feeling, like the one he had had on the night Roger disappeared. Shanks had been right then, and he was inclined to trust his instinct. It had yet to lead him astray.

Which was why he found himself in his current predicament. Around New Year’s, Queen Rouge always sunk into a depression. She had never remarried after King Roger died, despite having an impressive amount of suitors. That also meant she had no other children – even if she had, they would be illegitimate and have no claim to the throne – so Roger II was her everything.

To try to ease her pain, and perhaps his own, because Shanks couldn’t stand seeing his lady like this, Shanks never spent New Year at his own castle. Every year, a few days before the end of the year, after Christmas, he would go out to search for Rouge’s son and he wouldn’t return until long after.

New Year had passed, which Shanks had spent at an unfamiliar, but very hospitable castle with an unfamiliar, but very willing woman to warm his bed. In all, it had been pleasant and how he usually spent the feast, but it always made him feel slightly guilty, because he should be out in search for Roger.

It finally stopped snowing, and for the first time in days, the sun showed itself through the clouds. It gave Shanks a tiny bit of hope that something good was about to happen and he allowed himself to smile.

The road he was following led him into a forest. By now, he was further away from home than he had been in search for Roger. If he was not mistaken, he was actually not that far away from the lands of King Edward. Shanks had been to several of the tournaments the king was famous for. Edward’s knights belonged to the best in the world, so it was always fun to spar with them.

Shanks contemplated to steer his horse in the direction of Edward’s lands. He would be welcome there, no doubt, even if Edward and Roger had never been allies. Frienemies, Rayleigh liked to call them. The relationship between Edward and Rouge was different in that aspect. They had a mutual respect for each other, and if Emperor Sengoku was ever foolish enough to attack Raftel, Edward would be the first to kick him back where he came from, if Rouge hadn’t beaten him to the punch.

Still, Shanks discarded the idea. He had wasted enough time with parties. For now, he should focus on finding Roger II.

He entered the forest, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Forests were great places for robbers to hide, though those usually weren’t foolish enough to attack a knight in general, much less Shanks. He was renowned throughout the known world from his prowess – and good looks, if he may add that. Still, you never knew what was waiting for you on the other side of a tree, so Shanks decided to be cautious.

The vegetation grew thicker the father he came, and soon, he had to dismount his horse, leading it further by the reigns.

As he proceeded, he heard voices in the distance, which were hushed when he came closer. While Shanks had been cautious, he had made no effort to walk silently, so these people must have heard him coming.

Suddenly, Shanks’ instinct told him that he was about to be attacked, but somehow wasn’t in danger. It was a feeling he hadn’t had often, but he drew his sword and managed to parry an attack that all of the sudden came out of nowhere, accompanied by a war cry.

Shanks’ ‘attacker’ landed on the ground with a loud “Ouch!” When Shanks turned around, he started to laugh when he realised his instinct had once again been right.

The man, or rather boy, who was lying on the ground, opened his visor and looked up to the sky owlishly. When he saw Shanks, he started to laugh too. “Shanks!” he exclaimed, jumping him like he had when he had been a child.

Shanks braced himself, since Luffy had grown a lot bigger since last time he saw him, and was clad in full armour. The helmet Shanks had given him once, that he had gotten from Roger, finally seemed to fit.

“Aren’t you far away from home?” he said, putting Luffy down. Luffy was Garp’s grandson and heir to the dukedom, since his father, Dragon, had refused and disappeared somewhere. There were many rumours about his whereabouts, but none of them was viable. Garp’s dukedom, however, wasn’t around the corner.

Luffy just laughed. “I’m visiting my brothers.”

“Brothers?” Had Dragon been busy? Not much was known about Luffy’s mother. Some said she was a wench that would embarrass Garp, so she had been paid to give Luffy up and keep quiet. Others said that she had been a princess and had been forced to give up the baby because she was not married. Most just said she had died giving birth.

“Yeah! Come on, I’ll show you!” Before Shanks could even begin to form a protest, Luffy was dragging him through the bushes. On the other side, much to Shanks’ surprise, was a clear spot in the forest, where two men were waiting.

“That doesn’t look like food,” the first one, a blond man, said when he saw Shanks.

The other one just looked at him suspiciously.

It struck Shanks that both these men where about twenty years old. His brain always did that when he saw a someone, boy or man, that fit Roger II’s age. Twenty meant that they could be Rouge’s son. Well, not the blond one, since Roger had had black hair and Rouge red, but the other one... He had dark hair and freckles, like the queen. Maybe...

“What’s your name?”he asked the man slightly breathless. It couldn’t be, he knew that rationally, but he always got like that when he met someone that might be Roger II. When he was younger, he had dragged many boys that were the right age away from home, only to have Rayleigh sent them back again when he arrived at the castle. Shanks knew he got excited easily, he knew that, so it was probably a good thing that Rayleigh intervened before going to Rouge. Shanks shouldn’t get her hopes up only to shatter it again seconds after.

Now that he was older, he was more critical of the people he dragged back to the castle, first trying to find out more to see if it fit with the timeline. He had learned that from Rayleigh.

The freckled man turned up his nose. “Tell me yours and I may tell you mine.”

“This is Shanks,” Luffy said happily. “He borrowed me his helmet.” He had taken off said helmet, but held it behind his back as if Shanks would take it away again. “But you can’t have it back yet. I haven’t become the best knight yet.”

Sometimes Luffy looked  so much like Roger that Shanks had to wonder if he may be the lost son. It wasn’t possible of course, since Luffy was too young and Dragon’s kid, but still, the resemblance was remarkable.

“I’m Sabo,” the blond man introduced himself. “The grumpy one is Ace.”

Ace, so not Roger. Though, for all Shanks knew Ace could be a nickname. Or the kidnapper had changed the name to throw people off. However, the names Ace and Sabo he had heard before. They were the first people Luffy had mentioned when they met, but Shanks had never seen faces before. He only knew Luffy thought they were both amazing.

“How do you do,” he said.

Ace just snorted.

Shanks studied him more critically. He was dressed in worn clothes that seemed to be a few sizes too small and had been repaired a lot. Ace probably wasn’t too wealthy, but Luffy had never cared about money, or really any other social standards, when it came to making friends. They just had to be interesting – and to be able to poop, but Shanks had never understood that fascination.

The other man, Sabo, was wearing a habit, though Shanks didn’t recognise the religious order he belonged to. His posture didn’t resemble that of any monk he knew either, since they usually slouched a little to make themselves seem smaller. Sabo, on the other hand, was standing straight, his chest puffed proudly.

With Luffy standing next to them – by far the shortest of the three – they made an odd group. But while he could determine Luffy’s and Sabo’s occupancies by their clothes, he wasn’t sure what to make of Ace, aside from being grumpy. Maybe he was a farmer working on the lands nearby?

The nagging voice in his head that said this might be Rouge’s son, however, wouldn’t shut up, so Shanks decided to try to find out a little more. “So, do you live around here?” he asked.

“My monastery is close by here,” Sabo replied, his face looking so innocent that Shanks was suspecting that he was doing it on purpose.

Ace just rolled his eyes.

“I should get going, though” Sabo continued. “Prayers and all that. See you soon?”

Luffy nodded eagerly and jumped him to hug him, and Shanks was impressed how Sabo caught him seemingly with ease. It seemed that those robes hid a well trained physique.

Ace hugged Sabo as well. For a moment, the scowl disappeared from his face, which brightened. As soon as he noticed Shanks looking, however, he snorted again. “Later,” he said, before seeming to remember something and turning to Shanks. “Luffy seems to like you, which I don’t understand, but I’ll accept it. However, I won’t let anyone hurt him. Anyone.” With that, he disappeared in the forest.

“He’s so cheerful today,” Sabo said, sounding awfully cheerful himself.

“I should go too. Bye Shanks! Come visit again soon!” Luffy too vanished before Shanks could say a word.

“Don’t worry about him. His friends are waiting for him.” Sabo sounded fondly. “They’re good people. Well, I should get going.” Whistling, he placed the staff he was carrying on his shoulder and started to walk away.

The courtly knight in him couldn’t let a monk go unprotected, even if this monk was an odd one. “Wait,” Shanks said, and Sabo turned around. “Would you like me to accompany you?”

“That’s okay,” Sabo said, a grin on his face. “Who’d attack a frail little monk like me?”

Somehow, Shanks doubted that he was anywhere near frail, nor was he little, but he couldn’t force his company on Sabo. Instead, he found himself alone, wondering what to do. He could continue his search. But where to? Going in a random direction like he always did, hoping to bump into someone who may or may not be the lost prince?

Still, his instincts had never failed him before, and they were currently screaming that Ace was in fact Roger. Should he try to find Ace to find out more about him? Or was he just being foolish again, blinded by hope, like he had been so many times before?

He mounted his horse again, still unsure where to go next. He could go in the general direction in which Ace had gone, but he doubted he would find him easily. Ace had looked like he knew these woods like the back of his hand, and Shanks did not know them at all. The trees were more apart here, though, and he started to follow what appeared to be a path.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being followed, but when he looked back, there was no one to be seen, despite the fact that all vegetation was bare because of winter.

Suddenly, though, there was some rustling in the bushes, and in the blink of an eye, Shanks unsheathed his sword. “I know you’re there.”

Much to his surprise, Ace crawled out of the thicket, his hands raised in defence, but the scowl back on his face. “Geez, jumpy much?”

“I thought you were leaving,” Shanks said, sheathing his sword again.

Ace shrugged, dusting off his clothes. “I just wanted to see what Lu likes so much about you. Can’t say that I see it. You’re just a stupid knight.”

“You don’t like knights?”

Ace shrugged. “I like their stuff. But mostly they’re just arrogant bastards that think their better than we are.”

“Luffy’s a knight,” Shanks pointed out.

“Luffy’s Luffy. He’s not like anyone I know.” Again, a fond smile appeared on Ace’s face, but disappeared as soon as Shanks noticed it. “Anyway, it’s out of courtesy for him that I haven’t robbed you blind yet, so you should thank him.”

Shanks couldn’t help the small smirk creeping up his face. If Ace was Roger’s and Rouge’s kid, at least he had both of their fire.

“You should really stop staring at me. It’s creepy, and rude,” Ace pointed out.

“I’m sorry. You just remind me of someone.”

“Who?” Ace asked, the scowl deepening.

“My lord.” Shanks sighed deeply. “My former lord.”

“You abandoned him?”

“He died.”

“Oh.” Ace seemed to be taken aback by that. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s been a long time.” Shanks shook his head. “He was like a father to me, though. Do you have a father?”

Ace rolled his eyes. “Obviously. Everyone does.”

“I meant, do you know who he is?” Shanks carefully pressed.

“No. Nor do I care,” Ace said curtly.

“You don’t want to know?”

“Why would I? Bastard abandoned me when I was born. He didn’t need me, so why would I need him? Same goes for my mom. I’m fine.”

Listing to Ace’s story, Shanks wasn’t sure what to think anymore. Ace didn’t have any parents, but he thought he was abandoned. Did he have a reliable source for that? And even if he hadn’t, would he even want to follow back Shanks to Rouge? Shanks had always pictured a happy reunion between the two, but he had never considered the fact that the child was perhaps happier where it was. Ace didn’t look happy per se, but he did have his friend Sabo seemingly nearby.

However, when he turned back to Ace to reply, Ace had yet again disappeared into the woods.

Was he wasting his time trying to find Rouge’s long lost son? Even if he found him, how would he prove he was the crown prince of Raftel? The emperor would need irrefutable proof the man Shanks brought home was the true heir to the throne, or he would think that Rouge was too weak to hold the crown herself. Rouge wasn’t getting any younger and besides, she had refused to remarry many times. Shanks couldn’t blame. Rouge was a headstrong woman, but a woman nonetheless. No doubt her future husband would take the lead. Shanks didn’t think Rouge had much to fear, though, as all the knights were loyal to her.

Perhaps it was time Shanks himself started to think about settling down. He was thirty seven now, though still a good catch, if he said so himself. Finding an interested party shouldn’t be too big of a problem if he put his mind to it.

For now though, he needed time to reflect on what happened today, and on Ace. Looking for him would be no use since Ace seemed to be a master at hiding. It wouldn’t do to stay here and wonder. Shanks very much would prefer a warm bed and a good pint of ale.

Snow crunched underneath his horse’s shoes as he spurred her on, patting the chestnut fur. His loyal mare had been with him for many years, living up to her name, as he had called her Red Force. She had been with him through thick and thin, and at the moment, it felt rather thin.

It wasn’t long before he had exited the forest. It had stopped snowing, and the low sun reflected into the white blanket, almost blinding Shanks. Trusting his horse’s instincts more than his sight right now, he gave Red Force free reign.

That was probably a good thing, because if he had been steering, he would have bumped into another traveller, heading in the opposite direction. As it was, Shanks passed him with a polite nod of the head, when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a big red nose through the open visor. That nose he recognised anywhere.

“Buggy!” he exclaimed, turning his horse.

About a year after Roger had died, Buggy had left the castle to go with a damsel named Alvida. Shanks wasn’t sure what their relationship was; they weren’t married in any case, so perhaps Buggy was just her knight. Shanks had been hurt when Buggy left, but in all honesty, he couldn’t blame him. The mood in the castle had been dark back then, with the wound of losing Roger and their prince still somewhat fresh.

Shanks hadn’t seen Buggy in years.

The other knight turned around, and Shanks opened his own visor, pointing at his face. Buggy’s face brightened a bit. “What brings you all the way out here?” he asked as a greeting.

“I’m on a quest,” Shanks replied. “You know, as you do. But what are you doing here?”

“I live not far from here,” Buggy said. “You should come. For old time’s sake.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Shanks slapped him jovially on the back. “If we’re already close-”

“WHO HAS A BIG RED NOSE?!” Buggy exclaimed, causing birds to fly up.

Shanks laughed, his hand still on Buggy’s shoulder. “You do, my friend. Now let’s go!”

Buggy muttered something unintelligible, but he spurred on his horse anyway. Shanks rode next to him, happier than he had felt in a long time. He and Buggy had grown up together at Roger’s castle. They both became pages and later squires together, and Roger had knighted them on the same day too. Shanks had never been closer with anyone else.

It didn’t take long before a castle appeared in the distance. Shanks had never been at Buggy’s castle before and hadn’t known exactly where it was, either, which was why he hadn’t thought of stopping by now that he was in the neighbourhood. He hadn’t realised he was, after all.

Alvida welcomed them both courteously. She had slimmed down significantly since the last time Shanks had seen her, but there was still something about her that gave Shanks the creeps. Buggy seemed to be happy, though, so Shanks kept his feelings to himself. Perhaps it was just because he felt like she stole Buggy from him that he didn’t like her.

Of course, she was still a lady, and Shanks acted as courtly as he was supposed to. After having washed, he joined Buggy and Lady Alvida at the dinner table. The food was much better than anything he had had in days, and he was starting to feel like Luffy as he stuffed himself.

After dinner, he, Buggy, and Alvida took a seat near the fireplace, each with a goblet of wine. Contently, Shanks slouched in his chair, taking a sip of the excellent wine. The good food and the heat of the fire were making him sleepy.

“You still haven’t told us your quest, Sir Red,” Alvida said suddenly, twirling her wine around in the goblet.

Shanks, who had been dozing off, hastily sat up, as it wouldn’t do to ignore a lady. “I’m looking for someone,” he said.

“You’re not telling me that you’re still looking for the lost prince?” Buggy commented. His nose was looking redder than usual, but Shanks decided not to comment on it.

“The queen doesn’t believe he is dead.”

“And what do you believe?”

“I’m not sure,” Shanks admitted. “I have been wrong a lot in the past, but today I met a man... I don’t know.”

“It seems like you’re obsessed,” Alvida commented. “Buggy has told me what happened to the boy. It seems to me that he died a long time ago. My lady the queen would do better at finding a new lord, instead of reminiscing the past.”

Shanks stared in the fire. Usually, booze put him in good spirits, but he wasn’t feeling it at the moment. Still, he didn’t miss the look Buggy and Alvida exchanged, though he wasn’t sure what it meant.

Buggy coughed. “You know what I think? You need a distraction. Alvida is right, you have been obsessing about the prince for twenty years. A good fight is what you need. What do you say?”

“I do like a good fight,” Shanks mused. “Do you know of any tournaments nearby?”

“Forget tournaments! What you need is an old fashioned fight to the death,” Buggy said. “And I happen to know the perfect one. In a forest nearby, there is a Black Knight who challenges anyone who tries to pass him. No one has defeated him yet. Until now.”

“Sounds like a worthy opponent,” Shanks said slowly, “but I’m not sure that’s the challenge I’m looking for.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” Buggy hastily continued. “It’s no ordinary knight. He’s as big as a house, and has horns, like the Devil. And he breaths fire!”

Shanks looked at him sceptically. “Have you ever seen this so-called knight?”

“No me, personally,” Buggy said. “But I know a good many people who swear that’s what he looks like. Sounds like a challenge now, huh?”

“Are you sure you’re not just sending me there because you’re afraid to go yourself?” Shanks asked with grin.

“I would never!” Buggy exclaimed, sounding so indignantly that Shanks almost believed him.

Shanks laughed and rose from his seat as he stretched himself. “Well, I’ll take the job anyway. You might be right about me needing a good fight. Now, seeing I have to fight what sounds like Satan himself tomorrow, I’d better get some sleep.”

* * *

The next morning, Shanks was up at dawn, in better spirits than he had been for weeks. The prospect of a good fight excited him. He hadn’t realised it, but it had been a slow few months before he left the castle. In the past years, Shanks had made a name for himself as one of the bravest knights in the known world, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have off days. Fighting this devilish knight would prove he still had it.

Buggy joined him at breakfast, albeit sleepily, to show him where he had to go. It was at least half a day ride to the forest where the knight lived, so Buggy wouldn’t come with him, but he explained the directions and made sure Shanks had food.

As they said goodbye to each other, Shanks hugged Buggy tightly. “I’m glad I’ve finally seen where you live,” he said. “You look happy. I’m glad.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to try to find some happiness either,” Buggy replied with a snort.

“You’re much sappier than the last time we met.” Shanks grinned as he climbed upon his horse. “Farewell, my friend. Let’s meet again soon.”

The longer he was on the road, however, the more his excitement faded. Yes, he still wanted a decent fight, but he was a people person. He never did well alone. He always ended up talking to his horse.

Finally, the forest came into view, and Shanks spurred on his horse with a grin on his face. In full gallop, he rose into the woods. “I’m here to challenge the one who calls himself the Black Knight!” he called as loudly as he could. However, he didn’t meet anyone. When he reached a clearance in the forest, he finally slowed down his horse as he looked around him, slightly pouting in disappointment.

“What, you’re not showing yourself?” he called. “Afraid you finally met your match? How can I properly challenge you when you’re not showing yourself?”

“Actually, I’m the one usually doing the challenging,” a deep voice suddenly said behind him.

Shanks pulled at the reigns to bring his horse to a stop and turned her around. Behind him, a large jet-black horse was standing, scraping its hoof over the ground. On its back was an equally imposing knight, his armour as black as the coat of his horse.

However, no matter how big he was, it wasn’t nearly as big as Buggy had described him to be. Shanks also failed to see any horns or fire breathing.

“I also do not call myself the Black Knight,” the stranger continued, his voice sounding a bit hollow because of the helmet he was wearing, visor down. His voice had a nice, deep baritone, Shanks had to admit. “That’s what people call me.”

“Well, if you prefer another epithet, you should change the way you dress,” Shanks replied cheerfully. “I mean, it’s not like you’re called black because of your hair, like me. I am Shanks the Red, knight and loyal servant to Queen Rouge of Raftel.”

“I’ve heard of you, sir knight,” the Black Knight said. “There are many, many stories of your prowess and good looks. None of them speaks of the fact that you’re a chatterbox.”

“Ouch,” Shanks replied with a grin. “Well, at least I live up to most of the expectations. You’re not nearly as big as I was told you’d be, and with much less horn. I’m also doubting you have the ability to breathe fire, but perhaps you’ll surprise me.”

“That’s what people are saying about me?” the Black Knight asked after a short pause.

“Well, apparently you’ve beaten many a knight that wanted to pass through this forest. Knights are sore losers, generally, so they would make you scarier than you’re actually are.” Shanks shrugged. “I’m just hoping I haven’t come here for nothing, because even if you don’t look like they said you would, I’m itching for a good fight.”

The Black Knight steered his horse towards Shanks. “A good fight you will have, Sir Shanks. I have vowed not to let any knight pass through these woods, and I will not make any exceptions.”

Shanks noted how the emphasis lay on the word knight, and he decided to ask about that later, after he had beaten the knight. If he was still able, that is.

They steered their horses so that they were facing each other. Neither of them was carrying a lance, but that wasn’t stopping them from riding their horses. Shanks took his shield that was hanging from his saddle and drew his sword, while across from him, the Black Knight did the same. The black shield had a picture of a griffin on it in red, but Shanks didn’t recognise the family crest. He closed his visor.

When they both stood ready, Shanks dug his heels in the flanks of his horse, spurring her on. The Black Knight mimicked his action, and within seconds, spark flew around as their swords met in the air. Shanks couldn’t help but grin; he had missed a good old fight. The Black Knight seemed to hold his own rather well, but the fight had barely started yet.

Steering his horse with his knees, Shanks moved around the Black Knight, catching a strike of his sword with his shield and pushing it out of the way. Now that he had an opening, he struck, but the Black Knight recovered quickly and parried Shanks’ sword with seeming ease.

His heart beating with effort, but mostly excitement, Shanks swung his sword again and again, forcing the Black Knight to take defence. The black steed moved backwards slowly.

While Shanks held the attacking position right now, the Black Knight parried his hits like a pro, and Shanks was sure that the moment he stopped striking, the Black Knight would see his chance to attack. To keep this from happening, Shanks kept his attacks coming quickly in a row.

Suddenly, he saw something from the corner of his eye and turned his head to see what it was. The Black Knight seized the opportunity and pushed Shanks back with his sword. He then steered his horse away from Shanks and rode away.

For a moment, Shank thought he was fleeing and made ready to start a pursuit, but at the edge of the clearance, the Black Knight turned around his horse. The animal snorted and scraped its hoof over the ground.

Shanks grinned and took his position across from the knight. It seemed that this was going to be one interesting fight, and just what he needed. He still wasn’t sure what the thing was that distracted him, but it had probably been an animal fleeing.

The Black Knight took the lead this time, spurring on his horse. Shanks did the same, but his horse was hardly at full speed when suddenly a girl ran in front of him. The girl tripped over a tree root, falling on the soft forest ground. Shanks briskly pulled the reigns, bringing his horse to a halt, but the speed of the Black Knight’s horse was much greater than his had been. Shanks didn’t hesitate for a second and jumped off his horse, grabbing the girl in his arms to protect her.

Wildly, the Black Knight pulled the reigns as Shanks rolled out of the way. The horse neighed loudly and reared up. The Black Knight couldn’t keep his balance and fell of its back with a loud smack.

Shanks scrambled to his feet and, after making sure that the girl was okay, approached his foe. By some miracle, the Black Knight’s helmet was still firmly on his head. Shanks took off his own, carrying it under his arm.

“It looks like you’ve bested me after all,” the Black Knight said as Shanks stood next to him.

“I didn’t win anything. If you’re still able, climb back into the saddle, as it wasn’t me who threw you out of it. It wouldn’t be courteous of me to claim a victory that wasn’t mine,” Shanks said and held out his hand to help the Black Knight up.

The man seemed to hesitate, but then grabbed onto Shanks’ gauntlet with his own. Shanks pulled him up again.

A woman had joined the girl, who was still sitting on the ground where Shanks had left her, staring wide eyed at the two knights. The woman started crying when Shanks approached her, thanking him for saving her daughter.

“It was nothing,” Shanks replied. “After all, it’s my job to save damsels in distress.”

The girl blushed. She was obviously not a noble, judging by her clothes, but it never hurt to make someone feel special. The Black Knight remained silent.

Both men mounted their horses again, and Shanks warned the woman and her daughter to keep out of the way. He gave them time to pass the clearance, before putting on his helmet again. The Black Knight seemed to have recovered again from his fall and was busy fixing his own helmet. Shanks couldn’t help but think about how much danger the Black Knight had put himself in to save the girl. He couldn’t imagine anyone taking pleasure in killing a child, but the Black Knight could have broken his neck from the fall.

From what he had said earlier, Shanks had already deduced that it was knights whom the Black Knight disliked, not people in general, and this seemed to confirm that. He wondered what the story was behind that.

Once more, the Black Knight spurred on his horse, though his speed was considerably less than before, as he seemed to keep better eyes on his surroundings. Being courteous as he was, Shanks didn’t take advantage of that and approached the Black Knight at the same speed. He wasn’t going to go easy on his foe, however, and immediately attacked as soon as the Black Knight was within reach.

Sparks flew around when their swords met. Shanks used his shield to hit the other knight, pushing him back a bit, but the Black Knight immediately retaliated. The larger black horse used its body to push Red Force out of the way, but Shanks’ horse slipped past it and moved to the other side.

With his big, bulky armour, the Black Knight was well protected, but he couldn’t move as fast as Shanks could. Shanks hit him again with his shield, managing to knock him off balance. Before he could recover, Shanks lifted his sword and aimed for the Black Knight’s helmet. For the second time that day, the Black Knight slipped from the saddle.

This time, however, he recovered much faster, and scrambled to his feet surprisingly fast considering the weight he must be carrying.

Shanks dismounted as well, even if the rules didn’t require him to. He much rather finish this on equal terms.

Lifting his sword with both hands above his head, the Black Knight jumped towards him, but a well-aimed kick in the chest sent him flying back. He stumbled, but managed to remain upright. Shanks gave him a second to recover, before attacking again.

The sun was already setting, but neither of them had relented yet. At times, Shanks seemed to have the upper hand, but the Black Knight never gave up. He had gotten in a few good strikes as well.

Finally, they both stood panting on either side of the clearance, leaning on their swords as they gasped for breath. The horses were quietly grazing at the scarce grass in the wintery forest, amicably as if their owners weren’t trying to smash each other’s brains in.

“You’re good,” Shanks said finally, once he had his breath back.

“You’re a remarkable foe yourself,” the Black Knight replied. “None of my other opponents have ever made it this far.”

Shanks inclined his head in thanks. “Now, do you wish to settle this today, or continue afresh tomorrow?” he asked.

The Black Knight looked at the sky, where the first stars could be made out already. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to settle this today.”

“As you wish.” Shanks lifted up his sword again. “Then let’s end this.”

The Black Knight ran towards him, his heavy sword lifted in one hand is if it weighed nothing. Shanks caught the strike with his own sword, jumping back to accommodate for the force behind the swing. He swung his shield, which was caught by that of the Black Knight, pushing it aside. Now that he had an opening, Shanks swung his sword, hitting the Black Knight against the side of his helmet. The man staggered, and Shanks used that to hit him once more with his shield. The Black Knight took a step back to try to keep his balance, but it was no use. He fell backwards, snow whirling about around him as he hit the ground. His sword fell out of reach next to him.

Shanks placed the tip of his sword against the Black Knight’s throat, and he raised his hands up in defence.

“It would seem that you bested me after all.”

Shanks took off his helmet, combing with a hand through his sweat soaked hair. “So it would seem,” he said cheerfully. “But thank you for an amazing fight. It was just what I needed.”

“I’m glad I could be of service.” Shanks liked to imagine that he detected a hint of a smile in the Black Knight’s voice. “Now, isn’t it time you ended this?”

“I already have.” Shanks sheathed his sword again. “I beat you, so you have to do what I ask of you. In exchange for your life, I want you to stop challenging random knights, go to the castle of Queen Rouge of Raftel and swear loyalty to her.”

The Black Knight sat up until he was in a kneeling position. “You’re too merciful for a sinner like me, but I will do as you ask.” He rose and made to go to his horse.

 “Wait,” Shanks called and waited until the Black Knight had turned back to him. “Care to show me your face?”

The Black Knight seemed to consider his words for a moment, but then lifted up his hand to reach for his helmet. Taking it off, he finally showed his face to Shanks. While Shanks hadn’t expected the devilish look Buggy had described, he was struck by the man’s rugged but handsome features. He looked like he was a little older than Shanks, a few scars on his face proving he had a lot of experience with fighting. His black hair, which was greying, was long and tied together in a loose ponytail.

“Thanks,” Shanks said. “And what do I call you, Sir Black Knight?”

The man mounted his horse, that looked up slightly annoyed at being disturbed from grazing, and turned back to Shanks. “My name is Benn.”


	3. Chapter 2

Ace watched the strange knight, Shanks, leave from his hiding spot in a tree. It was no secret that he had never liked knights, just like it wasn’t that Luffy was the exception that proved the rule. When he was young, Ace had admired knights, with their shiny armour and flashy weapons. But when he had made his way through the crowd to see them up close, leaving for war, they had kicked him aside and laughed at him for being a ‘filthy peasant’. He had never met a knight who didn’t deem himself more worthy than the rest of the world, aside from Luffy of course.

However, Luffy insisted that Shanks was different from the norm as well. In all fairness, he had seemed nice enough, he hadn’t lost his temper even when Ace had behaved like an ass. However, he had been staring weirdly at Ace and had seemed obsessed with finding out about his background.

Well, it didn’t matter anymore. Shanks had left and even if he came back, he didn’t know these woods like Ace did, so he wouldn’t find Ace unless Ace chose to show himself. And the only reason he was likely to do that was to rob him.

Ace jumped down, his feet making almost no sound on the soft forest ground.

Ace had lived in the woods for as long as he could remember. Apparently, the man he called Gramps had found him abandoned somewhere and had brought him here to Dadan to be raised. Why he had thought that was a good home for him, he wasn’t sure, but considering Gramps’ own violent tendencies, Ace wouldn’t have been better off with him as guardian. Gramps didn’t live close, though where exactly he did live, Ace didn’t know. He came by every once in a while to see how Ace was doing and to show his love through his fists.

Ace was sure he would have gone crazy in the robbers’ den if he hadn’t met Sabo. Sabo was the son of nobles. He was the eldest of the children, and usually, his fate would have been to become a knight himself, which had been the plan when Ace met him. Sabo had been a page back then, and had been sent away from his father’s hunting party to collect an arrow, when he bumped into Ace. Ever since, they looked each other up as much as possible, as they were the only people of their age either of them knew.

Later, however, Sabo started to bump heads with his parents more often, and eventually he was sent to a monastery to become a monk, a position usually reserved for the younger children. Instead, his younger brother was made the legal heir of the estate.

While it did mean that they didn’t see each other as often anymore, Ace was happy for Sabo, as he looked content with his situation as well.

Ace had met Luffy when Luffy had been lost in the forest one day. When he discovered Ace and Sabo, who had been there that day as well, he had immediately declared them friends and Ace hadn’t been able to shake him since. And he had tried. In hindsight, though, he was glad Luffy had been so persistent.

However, Ace didn’t see Luffy and Sabo very often anymore, so he usually found himself alone in the woods, because he couldn’t handle being around the robbers too long. He loved Dadan, of course, she had raised him after all, but she did have a temper. So Ace usually busied himself with hunting for food and robbing people. Only rich ones, though, and unsuspecting knights made an excellent target.

Especially ones that turned their backs on their valuables.

Ace stopped in his tracks when he saw a knight kneeled by the river. His horse was standing a few metres away, looking for something to eat, while the knight appeared to be washing his face. His sword and helmet were lying at his side. Ace smirked to himself. This was going to be too easy.

The knight didn’t appear to hear him as he approached, the fast flow of the river making too much noise. Ace knew he should grab the horse and get the hell out of there, but just as he was about to do that, he noticed a pouch dangling from the knight’s belt. A quick look in the saddlebags proved that the knight had barely any food left, and he would probably keep his money on his person.

Taking out his dagger, Ace crept closer, cursing the snow that was crackling under his feet as he kept a close eye on the knight.

The man looked up, apparently done with washing his face, and reached for a piece of cloth to dry himself off.

Realising this was his last chance to take the coins and make a clean getaway, Ace jumped and cut the cord of the pouch in one swift motion.

Feeling the small pull, the knight turned around, confusion clear in his blue eyes. “What the-” he began, grabbing onto Ace’s arm.

Annoyed at himself that he hadn’t moved away quickly enough, Ace gave a firm pull to get his arm back. It slipped from the knight’s grasp, and the force caused him to tumble backwards, into the freezing water.

Ace’s eyes widened in shock. Even if the knight was wearing mostly leather armour, it was still heavy enough to pull him under, not to mention the temperature. The knight still hadn’t come up yet, and Ace cursed under his breath. He never meant to harm the knight.

Looking at the pouch in his hand, he bit his lip as he wondered what to do. Suddenly, he heard a gasp, when the knight finally surfaced, already pulled along with the fast flow.

Ace threw the pouch aside and grabbed onto the first long branch he could find and started to run along the river. The knight tried to swim to shore, but the flow was too strong and he was pulled under again.

“Hold on!” Ace called, almost slipping on the snow in his hurry to reach the knight. The man managed to grab on to a root of a plant, but it started to pull loose under his weight. Still, it did slow the knight long enough for Ace to reach him. Sticking out the branch to him, Ace held on to a tree when the knight grabbed onto it. Ace almost slipped, his foot sinking away in the mud when he tried to balance himself. Fortunately, the tree held, and when Ace had found firm footing again, he started to pull the knight out of the water.

When he reached the shore, the knight rolled onto his back, panting as his teeth didn’t seem to could stop chattering. His blond hair was sticking to his head and face.

Ace threw aside the branch he had used to save the knight, unsure what to do. He probably should make a run for it, but he couldn’t really leave him here with hypothermia, could he? Should he give him his shirt?

There was a rustling in the bushes, and Ace whipped around. The knight had heard it as well, rolling onto his stomach as he tried to steady himself with a trembling hand.

A man dressed in a habit pushed some branches away as he stepped forward, and Ace heaved a sigh of relief. “Sabo!”

“There you are!” Sabo said, placing his cane against a tree. “I forgot to give you- What did you do?” he interrupted himself sharply when he saw the knight on the ground.

“He fell into the water. I _saved_ him,” Ace said, indignant about Sabo’s assumptions – even if they were spot on.

“P-p-pushed me,” the knight managed to bring out.

“I did no such thing!”

Sabo rolled his eyes and took off the mantle he was wearing, placing it around the knight’s shoulders.

“T-thank you, brother,” the knight said, sitting up and pulling it tighter around him. “You’re v-very kind.”

“The kindest,” Sabo said, distracted, before he seemed to catch himself and laughed. “Oh, that sounded an awful lot like pride.” He crossed himself, before turning to Ace. “Now, I take it that these are his horse and pouch that I found over there?”

“Th-thief,” the knight said.

Ace ignored him. “Technically, the pouch is mine. I stole it fair and square! It’s not my fault that he chose to fall into the river.”

“Ch-chose?!”

Sabo held up his hand. “Ace, I know you long enough to know that you had something to do with it. Uh-uh,” he shushed him when he was about to protest and threw the money pouch towards the knight, who managed to catch it. “Now, help me take this poor man to the monastery before he freezes to death. No buts,” he said, before Ace could even think about protesting.

Mumbling curses under his breath, Ace went to fetch the knight’s horse, which was still standing where they left it while Sabo stayed with the knight. When he returned, Sabo helped him to get the still wet man back up on the horse. For someone with hypothermia, the knight did an impressive amount of glaring at Ace. Ace didn’t get what the big deal was; the knight was out of the water and got his money back, so what did he have to complain about?

Sabo took the horse’s reigns to lead the animal to the monastery, while the knight sat huddled up, wrapped in Sabo’s mantle.

Ace watched them somewhat awkwardly. “Well, it looks like you have it all under control now, so I’ll be off.” He already turned to leave, but sighed deeply when Sabo called him back.

“You’re not getting off so easily. This is your fault, after all. The least you can do is escort us to the monastery and make sure he doesn’t fall off. By the way, what do we call you, Sir Knight?” Sabo turned to the man on the horse. “My name is Sabo, and the guy who threw you in the water is Ace.”

“I did not throw anyone!” Ace protested.

“Your crest looks familiar,” Sabo continued imperturbable. “You wouldn’t be one of King Edward’s knights, would you?” Gently, he tugged at the reigns and the horse started walking.

Despite his state, the knight smiled. “I am. My n-name is Marco.”

“Sir Marco,” Sabo said musing, before calling over his shoulder, “See, Ace, this is why you check who you’re robbing _before_ you rob them. I’m sure Sir Marco the Phoenix wouldn’t have taken kindly to you stealing from him, if the incident hadn’t happened.”

“You mean him th-throwing me in the river,” Marco muttered.

“Did he, though?” Sabo continued cheerfully, his tone clear that he doubted Marco’s words.

Marco remained silent for a moment. “Maybe not _throw_ ,” he finally admitted. “Maybe he was defending himself. But in all fairness, he was r-robbing me.” His teeth still hadn’t stopped chattering.

“Duh, I’m a robber. That’s kind of what I do.” Ace, who strolled behind the horse, rolled his eyes.

Marco turned around to glare at him.

They finally arrived at the monastery, though not nearly soon enough for Ace’s liking. He wasn’t sure why Sabo was making him come. As soon as Marco had recovered, he would want revenge, in whatever form. If he upheld the knight code – something Edward’s knights were known for – he wouldn’t take justice into his own hand and run Ace through, but rather take him to the nearest sheriff. Ace didn’t like that prospect either.

“I’m going to fetch someone to take care of the horse,” Sabo announced. “Ace, help the good knight off his mount.” With that, he was off.

“I c-can get off my own damn horse,” Marco spat when Ace moved to help him.

Ace huffed. “Don’t think I’m any happier about being here than you are. If it were up to me, I’d be back in my den, counting your money.” He couldn’t help the smirk from creeping up his face.

“If you think-” Ace never found out what he thought, as Marco was suddenly overtaken by shivers. Cursing under his breath, he gripped at the manes of the horse to keep himself steady.

Ace rolled his eyes. “Just let me help you. Sabo’ll kill me if I let you fall off.”

“That doesn’t sound like something a m-monk would do.”

“Then you don’t know Sabo. Now, come on.” Ace reached out his arms, beckoning impatiently with his hands.

Marco seemed to hesitate, but then placed his hands on Ace’s shoulder to lean on him as Ace half-lifted him from the saddle. Unfortunately, Marco’s foot caught in the stirrup and he lost his balance. The sudden extra weigh caught Ace off guard and his knees buckled, causing them both to fall on the ground.

Ace landed on his back in the snow, Marco on top of him. Startled, Ace looked up to the face that was suddenly very close. He had already noted Marco’s pretty blue eyes the first time he looked up, but now it struck him that his face was quite handsome too. He was older than Ace, perhaps mid to late thirties. He was very heavy too, which made Ace guess he was quite muscular underneath that armour.

“That’s not the way I have in mind to warm up our knight, but oh well.”

Sabo’s voice made both of them look up, and Ace glared at him. “Stop being so damn amused and help us!” he snapped.

Sabo pursed his lips in disapproval. “Mind your language. You’re on holy ground now.” Still, he helped up Marco, though not Ace, who scrambled to his feet on his own. “Come on, sir, I’ve already asked someone to run you a hot bath.”

A novice took the horse’s reigns and led the animal away. Sabo made to leave with Marco as well, when Ace called him back.

“Weren’t you supposed to give me something?”

“Right.” Sabo retrieved something from his wide sleeve and pressed into Ace’s hand. He then led Marco away, who cast a last look over his shoulder.

Ace looked back at him, before turning up his nose and focusing his attention on the small medallion in his hand. On it, St Nicolas was depicted, and Ace had to smile. After all, it was nice of Sabo to give him the patron saint of thieves.

* * *

Marco looked over his shoulder at Ace as he disappeared into the woods. In all, Ace didn’t seem to be as bad as he at first appeared. Yes, he had tried to rob Marco and it was his fault that he had fallen in the river, but at least he had pulled him out again and helped him to the monastery, be it with some encouragement from Sabo.

Their faces had been close when Marco fell off the horse, and he had had the chance to study Ace’s closely, only conclude that he was kind of cute. He was warm too; Marco had felt the warmth radiate off him even through his harness. For a moment, he hadn’t shivered. Unfortunately, that hadn’t lasted for long.

Still, despite everything, Marco kind of hoped that he would see Ace again someday.

With a sigh, he pulled the mantle tighter around his shoulders and followed Sabo to the monastery, which was located just outside the forest. Around the building, there was some farmland, and Marco noted some chickens scurrying about, looking for something to eat on the snowy ground.

It looked rather peaceful, and very different from the chaotic life Marco was used to. He had been washing his face in the freezing water to wash away the dirt and blood that had been stuck to it from the fight he had had. Some lowlife knight had thought it a good idea to demand taxes from lands that definitely belonged to King Edward. He had refused to surrender, so Marco had challenged him to a duel. It hadn’t been a long fight.

It was only then that Marco realised that his side felt rather naked, and he wanted to slap his forehead. How could he not remember his sword sooner, which had been next to him when he washed his face. Ace had fetched his horse, but not his sword.

“M-my sword,” he said to Sabo.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sabo replied cheerfully.

Confused and surprised about that reaction, Marco shut up. Once he was warmed up, he would go back to the spot where he had lost it himself.

At the door of the monastery, a large monk with a moustache was waiting for them. “Welcome back, brother,” he greeted Sabo. “I see you brought a visitor.”

“Yeah, this is Sir Marco.”

“I see. It’s an honour to meet Edward’s seneschal.”

“T-thank you for your hospit-tality,” Marco brought out.

“He fell into the river, brother Hack,” Sabo explained.

“Then we better warm you up. Please follow me. There is a bath ready for you.”

Marco followed Hack inside, looking back at Sabo, who waved cheerfully at him. Shaking his head, Marco focused back on where he was walking. He was a moment too late, as a monk with a hood pulled deep over his eyes bumped into him. The monk stopped and fumbled, but didn’t say anything to apologise.

“Forgive he... him,” Hack said, clearing his throat. “He has taken a vow of silence.”

“I wasn’t paying attention either,” Marco said.

The monk nodded, keeping his gaze aimed at the floor and the hood pulled far over his head.

“Come on, brother, I’m sure brother Sabo needs help,” Hack encouraged him.

The other monk nodded again before scurrying away. In a flash, Marco caught a glimpse of his face, which looked surprisingly feminine. Immediately, he berated himself. A woman would never stay in a monastery. It was probably a young man. 

While the building itself looked like any monastery Marco had seen, there was something about the monks that seemed... off. Marco couldn’t put his finger on what it was, though.

He was taken to a room in which a bath was made ready, steam coming of the water. Marco actually started to shiver more when he saw it. Two novices helped him take off his armour and sit down in the bath. Marco sighed when the warm water hit his skin and slowly started to warm him up. He slid down as far as possible without going under entirely and leaned with his head against the edge of the tub.

A monk came in to bring him a mug of warm wine, which he took gratefully. The wine contained several herbs and started to warm him from the inside out as soon as he had taken a sip.

It had been a long day, and his muscles felt sore. He also only now noticed how exhausted he was. His eyelids fell shut, and images of  a certain freckled man danced around on his mind’s eye.

He startled awake when Sabo entered the room, a brown piece of cloth over his arm. The water was lukewarm by now.

“I’ve brought you clean clothes.” He showed the habit he was holding. “Sorry about that, but it’s kind of the dress code here, so we don’t have much else.”

“It will do just fine. Thank you, brother.” Marco was pleased to hear that he could speak without stuttering again.

Sabo helped him out of the water and gave him a rough towel to dry off. “Our medical expert wants to have a look at you,” he said as Marco pulled the habit over his head. Marco nodded and followed him out of the room.

Sabo led him to the sick bay, where a brother with an unusually large head and an accent Marco couldn’t place examined him and gave him a hot beverage with a lot of ginger to drink. He then ordered Marco to nap for a few hours, which Marco gladly did.

He was woken up for supper, but the hall was very quiet because of the mealtime vow of silence the monks had taken. After eating, Marco joined the monks for mass, after which everyone retired to their cells, including Marco. He was woken several times during the night by the bells announcing mass.

He stayed with the monks for a few days, until he had fully recovered. However, he was glad when he could take off the habit again. While it was warm, it was also rather scratchy and itchy.

Fortunately, his armour had dried well without being damaged too much. Once he had it on, he felt like himself again. Sabo and Hack accompanied him to say goodbye and helped him saddle his horse.

As he made ready to leave, Marco saw another figure exiting the monastery. It was the abbot, his hands hidden in the wide sleeves of his habit. Marco had seen him at mealtimes and at mass, but had never had the time to thank him for his hospitality.

Next to Marco, the abbot stood still. “I heard you were leaving. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to greet you earlier, but I’m glad to see that you’re completely recovered.”

“I am,” Marco replied with a smile, as he studied the abbot’s face. He seemed like a man who had had a hard life. On one side of his face, he had markings of a tattoo, though Marco guessed those were from his life before he became a monk. He decided not to ask. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“That’s what we’re here for. And thank you for your generous donation.”

Marco had contributed to the monastery with most of the money that Ace hadn’t stolen. It was the least he could do for being an inconvenience in a time where there was not much to eat. The monastery seemed to be self-sufficient, with a farm and animals, but there wasn’t a village for miles, so they had to. Hopefully, the money would help.

Saying goodbye, Marco waved at Sabo and Hack, before spurring on his horse. He really should go back home, before his brothers would get worried. He didn’t think King Edward would worry much, though Marco knew he preferred if Marco didn’t go out on adventure. He was the seneschal, after all, with many duties in and around the castle.

As soon as he entered the woods again, someone jumped from a tree right in front of him, and Marco pulled the reigns to stop his horse.

“So you didn’t die. That’s good.”

“What, you were worried about me?” Marco asked with a grin, causing Ace to snort.

“As if. But it wasn’t exactly... _not_ my fault that you fell into the water, so it wouldn’t reflect well on me if you died of ammonia or something.”

“They don’t call me the Phoenix for nothing. But so you were worried.”

Ace rolled his eyes, while he kept his hands behind his back. “I don’t like causing people to die, is all. That doesn’t mean I care about you.”

“That makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside.”

“I’m already regretting coming here.” Ace made ready to leave.

“Why _did_ you know to come here?” Marco suddenly wondered out loud.

Ace turned around. “Sabo said you’d be leaving today.”

The smirk on Marco’s face grew. “So you have been talking about me. Which means you already knew I was okay. And he couldn’t know how late I left until today, which means you were waiting for me.”

Ace glared at him, and Marco was pretty sure his tinted cheeks weren’t caused by the cold. He looked adorable. “You’re so annoying! I was just in the neighbourhood, so don’t get any ideas. Also, I suppose I need to give you this.” From behind his back, he retrieved Marco’s sword, handing it to him.

Marco was a little surprised, seeing that it was a valuable weapon with gold and precious stones inlaid. “Shouldn’t you be selling this?”

“Please, every blacksmith I’d bring this to would know it was your sword. No one would be so stupid to buy it from me, not even to melt down.”

“Thank you,” Marco said, surprised, sheathing the weapon. He had planned to go back to the place where he had lost it, but he hadn’t had much hope of finding it again. Perhaps this was what Sabo had meant.

“Whatever. Don’t think I’ll let you take me to a sheriff.”

“Sheriff?” Marco asked confused. “Why would I do that?”

“I tried to rob you, remember?”

“Right.”

Ace let out an frustrated sound.

“Well,” Marco continued, “the emphasis lies on the word ‘tried’.”

“May I remind you that I succeeded at robbing you? It’s not my fault I have such a good heart that I saved you from the river. Or that Sabo made me give the money back,” Ace countered.

“Fine, you’re an excellent thief if your victim is unarmed and has their back turned.”

“Are you calling me a coward?” Ace narrowed his eyes at him.

“All I’m saying is that you won’t succeed again.”

“Please, I could rob you with both hands tied behind my back.”

“Oh really? And you’ll think I’ll let you?”

“You don’t have to let me.” Ace crossed his arms before his chest. “I’ll make you.”

“You and what army?”

“I don’t need an army like you stupid knights.”

“Alright.” Ace seemed to be taken aback when Marco dismounted. “Prove it. Right here, right now. Fight me.”

Ace needed another second to recover from his surprise, his mouth hanging open. Finally, he said, “Fine. But no swords, obviously. I don’t have one.”

“What if I arrange one?”

Ace rolled his eyes again. “I’ve never fought with one, so that wouldn’t be fair, would it? Not that I couldn’t beat you anyway,” he added.

“Fine, no swords.” Marco took his from the scabbard again and placed it aside, next to where he tied his horse to a tree. “What do I get if I win?”

“What do you want? I have nothing.” Ace shrugged.

A smirk crept up Marco’s face. “Alright, if I win, I want to teach you how to swordfight.”

Ace looked at him confused. “Why?”

“Because my presence seems to annoy you, and I kind of like that.”

Ace rolled his eyes so hard Marco feared they would fall out of his head. “You don’t have anything better to do that to annoy me?”

“I can make time. What do you want if you win?”

“ _When_ I win, I can take what I like,” Ace replied with a snort.

Now it was Marco’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sure.” He wasn’t very worried. While he was sure that Ace was a capable fighter, he had to fight to survive after all, Marco doubted he ever had had proper training, unlike Marco. Marco had learned how to fight with various weapons, including hand to hand combat. 

They stood across from each other, both of them waiting for the other to make a move. Finally, Ace snapped, “Have we started or what?”

He had barely uttered the words when Marco kicked him in the stomach and he doubled over. Marco had made sure not to kick too hard as he was still asserting how much Ace could take. Considering that he was still coughing and trying to catch his breath, that had been a wise decision.

“You wanna give up?” he asked, reaching out to Ace.

What he hadn’t expected was the fist that came dangerously close to his face and that would definitely have hit him if he hadn’t had such quick reflexes. So Ace had been faking his coughing fit. Marco smirked. This might get interesting after all.

“They don’t call me Firefist for nothing, either,” Ace said, sounding awfully smug.

Marco smirked as he threw a punch of his own, which was caught with surprising ease. He tried again, this time managing to hit Ace’s shoulder, but not hard enough to do actual damage.

On the slippery snow, it was hard to keep his balance. Ace seemed to have the upper hand on him in that aspect, he noted. It surprised him at first how easily Ace stayed upright, until he noticed that Ace had sharp points sticking out the soles of his shoes, giving him extra grip.

Since he didn’t want to lose because he slipped and fell on his face, Marco decided to end things quickly. Placing a well-aimed kick against Ace’s thigh, he immediately kicked him in the chest as Ace lowered his centre to keep in balance. Now that Ace was off balance, Marco used his leg to swipe against Ace’s to throw him over. What he hadn’t expected, though, was Ace pulling him along as he fell, causing them to tumble on top of each other.

For a while, they wrestled on the ground, alternating who was on top. It wasn’t really a fight anymore, Marco noted, especially when Ace shoved snow down his shirt. Still, Marco was pleased when he ended up on top, pinning Ace’s legs down firmly with his own and using his hands to keep his arms in reign.

“There, I won,” he said, panting.

Ace struggled, but Marco wasn’t about to let him go. “I won,” he repeated.

“Fine,” Ace finally spat. He stopped struggling, and Marco moved off him carefully. Ace immediately scrambled to his feet and started to dust himself off, a scowl on his face. “You should be pleased with yourself,” he snapped.

“I am,” Marco replied, amused, as he leaned on his sword.

“Why, though? Now you have to teach me how to swordfight. Where are you going?” Ace asked when Marco untied his horse and climbed upon it.

“I’m not going to teach you _now_ ,” Marco said, turning the animal towards Ace. “I can’t teach you in one day, anyway. I’ll be back next week, though, so be sure you’re there.”

“You’re coming back for me?” Ace sounded disbelieving.

“Obviously. I’m keeping to my word.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Frustrated, Ace stamped with his foot on the ground. “Don’t you have damsels to save and dragons to slay or whatever it is you knights do?”

“I’m a seneschal,” Marco explained. “Unless there is war, I hardly leave the castle. Unless it’s personal, like this time, but the king wasn’t happy I left. I don’t live to far from here, so I can come here whenever I like.”

“I couldn’t be happier,” Ace replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Marco shrugged. “At least now we both get something out of it. You get to learn how to swordfight, and I get to annoy you. It’s a win-win situation.”

Ace let out a frustrated sound.

“See you next week!” Marco called after him as he disappeared between the trees.


	4. Chapter 3

“I didn’t mean go to the queen right away,” Sir Shanks said as he climbed upon his horse as well. “It’s getting dark, so we should probably find a place to stay. I know a lady nearby, though it’s still a bit of a ride.”

Benn hesitated for a moment, but he had nothing left to lose anyway. He shouldn’t even have his life right now. “Follow me,” he said. He hadn’t actually expected Shanks to follow him without any objection, though. After all, Benn’s life belonged to him now.

They rode in silence, until the castle loomed up in the distance. Benn cast a look to the side and he saw Shanks staring up at the building. It did look a little like a haunted place, now that it was getting dark. It had started snowing again as well and the wind had picked up too. It wasn’t helping the castle look more appealing.

The drawbridge, or what was left of it, was lowered, and the horses’ hooves clanged on the wood as they rode across it. The courtyard was as deserted as Benn had left it. The only difference was that there was more snow.

“Where is everyone?” Shanks asked. His voice had been soft, but it still echoed against the walls.

“Dead, mostly,” Benn said with a shrug, pretending it didn’t kill him to talk about it. “Or they fled if they were smart.”

Shanks remained silent as they both dismounted. Benn took the reins of Shanks’ horse, but Shanks started to protest. “I can care for my own horse.”

“Please, I may not have much to offer, but I’m still your host,” Benn replied.

Shanks nodded slowly, allowing Benn to lead his horse away. Benn pointed him to the entrance and asked him to wait inside. There was not much left of the stables, but there was some shelter and dry hay for the animals to eat. After he had dried and brushed them, Benn walked towards the entrance of the castle. Seeing the mess made him regret bringing Shanks here. A knight like him should be surrounded by luxury and adoring people, not in a castle that was about to collapse. Still, there was no time left to go someplace else, not without riding through the night.

Benn found Shanks in the throne room, or what was left of it. He was standing in front of a large portrait of Benn. When he heard Benn approach, he turned around. “What happened here?” His face was serious, more so than Benn had seen until now. “You’re obviously the lord of this castle. Who killed your people? What drove you to become the Black Knight?” He made no comment of the torn portrait next to Benn’s, the image unrecognisable.

Benn’s lips pulled taut and he made no answer. “I’ll get you some water to wash yourself.” Silently, he brought Shanks to a room and helped him out of his armour before bringing him a bowl of water. Thankfully, Shanks didn’t comment on any of it, though Benn could see in his eyes what he was thinking. A lord wasn’t supposed to do these things himself, he should have people for it. The lord only had to make sure it was done.

Benn regretted taking Shanks here more by the second. He didn’t want pity. Yet that wasn’t exactly the vibe he got from Shanks. Anger, sure, because he knew something bad had happened, but beyond that, Benn wasn’t too sure.

Once he had taken off his own armour and had brought Shanks clean clothes – the last set he owned – he scrambled together a meagre meal which he served in the dining room. They ate in silence, sitting across from each other at the long, rectangle table. It had been a long time since someone kept him company during a meal, even if they didn’t talk.

Benn knew Shanks was dying to find out what had happened. There was no way he hadn’t noticed the state the castle was in, so he should have an idea that they had been attacked viciously.

When they had eaten, Benn collected the last barrel of wine from the cellar and filled a jug with it. Handing Shanks a goblet, he kneeled down to get the fire going. The castle was freezing.

Finally, he spoke. “You asked what happened here. By the state of castle, I’m sure you have some idea.” He took a draught from his wine, swallowing slowly. “We were attacked. The army came out of nowhere. Many of my soldiers are off fighting for the emperor, since, as his vassal, I am required to provide capable men. We fought as well as we could, but we never stood a chance. The army destroyed the castle and pillaged the village nearby, killing anyone who got in their way. Women, children, it didn’t matter.”

Taking a deep breath, Benn finally looked up from where he sat kneeled by the fire. Shanks remained silent, but Benn could see the anger on his face. No, it was worse, he seemed furious. Even if he knew it was the reflection of the flames, for a moment, Benn imagined seeing actual fire in his eyes.

Slowly rising, Benn took another sip of his wine. “After all that trouble, you’d think they’d seize the lands. That’s not what happened. After they had taken what they valued and destroyed what could be broken, they left. I am the only one left in the castle, and my people bring me what they can spare, but it is not much since their fields were burned down.

“I became the Black Knight to protect my people,” Benn continued in a monotonous voice. “It’s the only thing I can do, now that the emperor has refused to help. King Edward’s men have brought some food, but in the end, the people here are my responsibility.”

“Who attacked you?” Shanks seemed to choke on his words, the goblet shaking in his hand so much that wine was threatening to spill over.

Benn shook his head. “I don’t know. Their leader called himself Blackbeard, but I don’t know who he is. If I did, I would have gotten my revenge by now.” Benn brought a hand to his face, his fingers trembling as he massaged his temples. “The men who fight for the emperor don’t even know what happened. Few of them will come back, but those who do and expect to find their family waiting for them...” His voice broke and he took a shaky breath.

He hadn’t even noticed Shanks moving until he placed a hand on his arm, and Benn almost dropped his goblet.

When Shanks had revealed his identity today, Benn had known that his winning streak was up. He made no illusions that he could beat a knight like Sir Shanks. However, that didn’t mean that he was going to give up without a fight, and he had been surprised that he had been able to hold his own, even if he knew it wouldn’t last. In the end, he had failed, and he was supposed to die then. Of course, he should have known that Shanks would be merciful. Everything that was said about Shanks was true, including his good looks.

Shanks remained silent, gently squeezing Benn’s upper arm. He opened his mouth to say something, but Benn interrupted him before he could try.

“Don’t even think about it! You won our duel, so I will go to your queen and pledge my loyalty to her.”

“She will send aid for your people,” Shanks said softly.

“That’s not why I’m going.”

“I know. But also know that you’re free to return to your land once you’ve been to her.”

Benn just nodded. “Allow me to point you to your room.”

* * *

It was the middle of the night when Shanks woke up. He wasn’t sure what woke him, so he lay still and listened, but there was only the wind howling outside. Still, something urged him to get out of bed, wrapped in the thick blanket, because it was freezing.

He found Benn in the dining room, close to the fire as he poked in the flames to get them going. Silently, Shanks sat down next to him.

“Wine?” Benn asked without looking up and poured Shanks a goblet full.

Shanks was never one to say no to any type of alcohol when offered, but he was pleased to find out that the wine was warm and that spices were added that warmed him up right away. Content, he wrapped himself in the blanket and made himself comfortable in a chair in front of the fire.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Benn said. He glanced up for a second, before turning his attention back to the fire.

“I’m pretty sure the storm is what woke me. But why are you up?” Shanks asked, holding out his goblet for seconds.

“I haven’t slept much since...” Benn trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence for Shanks to know what he meant.

Deciding to change the subject, Shanks said lightly, “Well, I sure am glad we are spending the night here, instead of camping outside. That would have been one cold night.”

Benn hummed, but did look around. Shanks opened his blanket invitingly, but Benn shook his head. There was a hint of a smile on his face, though, which was more than Shanks had seen him do in the time he knew him. It suited him.

A silence fell, only broken by the howling of the wind and the crackling of the fire. The warmth of the fire, along with the wine made Shanks drowsy, his eyes falling shut slowly. He startled awake when Benn started taking.

“You said I was welcome to leave after I went to the queen. Does that mean I am also welcome to stay?”

Surprised by the question, Shanks sat up straight. “Of course. But are you considering that?”

Benn shrugged. “I have nothing left here. I have failed as lord of these lands. My people deserve better.”

Shanks opened his mouth to protest, but as if he knew, Benn continued talking. “I’ve been considering for a while to loan my lands to King Edward. He would take good care of them. The alternative is giving them back to the emperor, who technically owns them, and I don’t really feel like that. You know, because I’m not too fond of him.”

“Well, if it helps, Queen Rouge isn’t much of a fan either,” Shanks said.

Benn nodded slowly. “That does help.” He rose from his seat on the floor. “Neither is Edward, which is why I’m even considering it.” He sighed and looked around the dimly lit room. “This place reminds me of too many bad things. I’d like to start over, since you’ve spared my life.”

“I still think I made the right decision there,” Shanks replied, holding out his goblet again. “I’m also fairly sure you’re trying to get me drunk.”

“I’m not even trying.”

Shanks was pleased to hear a slight chuckle and took another draught from his wine. He was feeling pleasantly buzzed. Benn took a seat in the chair next to him, and Shanks used the opportunity to lean his head against his shoulder. He felt a hand ghost over his hair, and he realised his eyes had fallen shut again.

“Then I will leave for Edward’s, before heading for Raftel,” Benn said. His voice was soft and he didn’t startle Shanks this time.

Shanks forced his eyes open, but didn’t bother moving. “You do know that I’m coming with you, right?”

Benn looked at him. “Aren’t you on a quest?”

“Nah. I mean, yes, sort of, but...” Shanks cleared his throat. “No, I’m not.” Thankfully, Benn didn’t ask, because Shanks’ brain wasn’t really working with him currently. “Besides,” he added, “I’d like to see the queen’s face when she opens her gift.” He winked, but fortunately, he wasn’t so drunk as to add that he didn’t mind doing that himself.

* * *

Shanks had stated in his drunken stupor that he would get some food the next morning, but since Benn was awake anyway, he caught some fish in a nearby river. It turned out to be a good move, since Shanks only came out of bed near noon. Benn didn’t mind. The storm had died down, and the only sign of life were the footsteps Benn had made himself.

Shanks pouted slightly, because he hadn’t gotten breakfast himself, as he promised. He hadn’t been so drunk that he’d forgotten, apparently. Benn assured him he could take care of breakfast the next day.

Soon after they had eaten, they made the horses ready to leave. Their next destination was Moby Dick, home of Edward the Giant. As the castle, his home, disappeared in the distance, Benn couldn’t help but turn around to look at it one last time.

Shanks halted as well, turning his horse to come stand next to him, an placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be back, you know. My lady the queen won’t let you down.”

Benn nodded and turned back to the road ahead. While it was true what he had said the night before, that the castle only had bad memories for him now and that his people deserved better, he would come back for them, with aid. He should have done that a long time ago, instead of cooling his anger on random knights.

They rode in silence for a while, Shanks letting Benn brood, but soon enough it turned out that Shanks wasn’t one to stay quiet for long. He started talking about whatever seemed to come into his mind. Benn tuned it out for the most part – Shanks was talking for the sake of talking anyway – but it was nice to have some human background noise. Benn hadn’t had company in a long time, not for long anyway, as the knights he had fought had been either killed or fled when it turned out that Benn had had the upper hand.

The ride to Edward’s castle took two days. At night, they camped in the open air, which Shanks complained about, though Benn pointed out that at least he wouldn’t sleep in and could arrange breakfast. Shanks did as much, but he didn’t seem too happy about it. His mood veered around when Benn handed him a skin filled with wine, though.

When Edward’s castle came in sight, Benn started to ride more slowly. Shanks didn’t say anything about it, fortunately, but he did started to talk again.

“You know these guys give the best parties, right? Sometimes I wonder why Edward’s moniker isn’t ‘King of parties’. Well, not that his actual one isn’t fitting? Have you ever met him? He’s huge!”

“I did meet him, once,” Benn said, a slight smile on his face. “But I’m more familiar with his seneschal.”

“In what way?” Shanks asked, his voice heavy with insinuation, and in case Benn had missed that, he waggled his eyebrows as well.

Benn raised his own eyebrow. “In a professional way. Edward is old and often ill, so Marco oversees many things.”

Shanks shrugged. “Boring. Well, but have you ever been to one of their parties?”

“That I haven’t.”

“It kind of surprises me, ‘cause they host a party for any reason. Still, you’re in for a treat.” Shanks grinned like a child that had been handed a sweet, spurring on his horse.

Benn sighed, but couldn’t help the smile that crept up on his face. Not for the first time, he was glad that he had met Shanks.

At the castle, they were welcomed, and King Edward could receive them right away.  In the throne room, Benn looked around. Some of the faces of the knights and ladies looked familiar, others less. He did recognise Sir Jozu, whom had been in charge to hand out food in Benn’s lands after the disaster had happened. He nodded at him in acknowledgement.

It always surprised him what a big of a man King Edward was. He towered over anyone in the room, and his knights were hardly short. At the king’s feet, a giant white dog was lying, who barely raised its head when Benn and Shanks approached.

In front of the throne, they halted and bowed down.

“Sir Shanks, always a pleasure,” Edward said, his voice booming through the room. “Are you finally here to challenge me to another drinking contest?”

“That’s very tempting, milord, but not this time,” Shanks said with a grin. “It’s Sir Benn who has a request for you.”

All eyes in the room where now aimed at him, and he wasn’t sure he was glad about that. They all knew what happened to him, and he hated to be pitied. His hand balled into a fist subconsciously.

“If I may, I would like to discuss something with you in private,” he finally said, after having taken a deep breath.

King Edward rubbed at his white moustache, nodding slowly as he made a gesture with his hand. Without protest, everyone left the throne room.

Shanks cast a questioning look at Benn, who nodded. Shanks shrugged and left the room as well.

“What is it you want to discuss with me?” Edward asked, after the doors of the throne room had been closed.

Benn took a deep breath. “I am going away for a while, a few months. I need my lands looked after in the meantime, and I don’t feel like asking the emperor for help.”

Edward hummed as he nodded slowly, plucking at his moustache. The dog at his feet got up, yawned and placed his head in Edward’s lap, making soft noises until Edward scratched it behind its ears. Its tail wagged, slapping against Benn’s legs until he took a step back.

“And what has brought about this journey?” Edward asked, the gleam in his eyes telling Benn he knew exactly what had brought that change.

“I will go with Sir Shanks to his queen,” Benn replied with a stoic face.

“You know,” Edward said, a playful look in his eyes as he continued to pet the dog, “you could swear loyalty to me. I’d be happy to take care of your lands.”

“That is what your knight offered when he came to my lands, but I have to decline.” Benn couldn’t help the smile creeping up his face as he continued, “I have an better offer now.”

Edward burst into laughter, and Benn could swear the ground underneath his feet was trembling. “Better offer, you say?” When he finally calmed down, he continued, “Well, Rouge is a good woman, and an even better queen. I will gladly take care of your lands until they are in her capable hands.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Benn clacked his heels together and inclined his head.

“Usually, I discuss these types of things with Marco, but he’s off gallivanting around,” Edward said, more to himself than to Benn. “Well, it’s only for a few months. I will send Jozu, since he already knows his way.”

Benn bowed his head again.

“I think we have a deal then.” Edward held out his arm, and Benn clasped it. “A servant will see you to your room,” Edward continued, “so you can freshen up. After all, I think this is a good reason for a celebration.”

As if someone had been listening by the door, a servant came in, gesturing for Benn to follow him. Benn bowed one more time to the king, before following the servant. He was led through several hallways until a door was opened, behind a bedroom was.

The servant helped take off Benn’s armour, and when he asked if there was anything else he could do, Benn asked for water and bandages. Without asking why, the servant got what he asked, before being sent away.

Hissing in pain, Benn lifted up his shirt, looking down at his torso. The old bandages were drenched with blood, and when Benn touched it, he winced.

There was a knock at his door, and before Benn could respond, it was opened and Shanks came in. “I take it that it went well, since they’re preparing for a party...” His voice trailed off when he saw the state Benn’s body was in. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s just old wounds that reopened,” Benn said calmly. He started taking off the bandages, trying not to show he was in pain.

“When?” Shanks demanded.

Benn remained silent for a moment, but then sighed. “During our fight.”

“So you have been like this for _days_ and you never said anything?!”

Benn shrugged, immediately wishing he hadn’t done that. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

Shanks looked like he was about to reply, but then he closed his mouth and walked towards Benn. Without saying a word, he took over from taking off the bandages.

“You don’t have to do that,” Benn protested.

“Neither did you.”

Benn realised that arguing would be useless, so he just let Shanks take care of him. After the dirty bandages were taken off, Shanks dipped a piece of cloth in the water Benn had requested and started gently to wash the wound.

It still hurt, but Benn didn’t complain, watching Shanks’ movements closely as he held his arms up to give him access.

When the wound was clean enough, Shanks took the clean bandages and wound them around Benn’s torso. The air was thick between them, and Benn barely dared to breathe.

When Shanks was done, he took a step back to admire his work. “There,” he said, his voice sounding hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “There,” he said again. “It’s okay like this? You can still breathe?”

“Yes,” Benn replied.

“Good. I mean, breathing is good.” Shanks scratched the back of his head slightly awkwardly. “Well, I guess we have a party to go to. Though, you probably should take some rest.”

“I will join you soon,” Benn promised, picking up the clean shirt that the servant had brought.

Shanks nodded and turned his heels. At the door, he stopped and looked over his shoulder as if he was about to say something, but seemed to think better of it. “See you in a bit,” he only said.

* * *

Shanks was pretty sure that the party had been great. He just couldn’t quite remember everything that had happened. No, it had to have been amazing, or he would have remembered something. That thought made the throbbing headache almost worth it. The pain was soothed a bit by breakfast, and bits and pieces of the previous night came back. Shanks was pretty sure he beat Edward in a drinking contest, but the knights claimed the king had won. Shanks would have to ask Benn.

Speaking of Benn, he was not at breakfast, which had Shanks worried. He knew Benn had been at the party at some point, but he couldn’t remember seeing him for long. Not that that said much, considering he didn’t remember much at all, but with a wound like Benn’s, he might have taken it easy. At least, Shanks hoped as much, since Benn had hardly taken it easy since Shanks met him, and Shanks was pretty sure he hadn’t before that.

After most of the food was gone, Shanks excused himself to find Benn. This time, after knocking, he waited until Benn called for him to come in.

Benn was still lying in bed, which was a good thing, Shanks supposed. Shanks strode in, opening the shutters to let in fresh air. It was cold outside, but the crisp wind did wonders for his hung over state. After having taken a few deep breaths, he turned back to Benn. “How are your wounds?”

“They’re much better, thank you.”

“Show me,” Shanks demanded. He wasn’t going to let Benn downplay his injuries again, or hide his pain altogether.

Benn sighed as if resigning to his fate and pushed the blanket off himself as he stepped out of bed. To Shanks’ not very well masked disappointment, he was wearing a hose.

Shanks made a show of examining the bandages, though it was more as an excuse to touch Benn’s torso than because he thought something was wrong. Shanks had no medical training, only knowledge of injuries he had sustained himself, but the bandages on Benn looked clean, so he figured they should wait a little before changing them.

 The previous night, Shanks had seen the many, many scars decorating Benn’s torso. He had obviously been a warrior. The wounds currently bandaged would leave nasty scars as well, like the marks next to Benn’s eye.

Usually, Shanks would have made a move already, since he was definitely attracted to Benn, and he had a distinct feeling Benn felt similar about him. However, Benn had had a rough past, to say the least. Shanks was pretty sure he had been married as well, as there had been a painting next to Benn’s in his courtroom, even if it had been to damaged to make out anything. Perhaps he had had children as well.

As it was, Shanks decided to take it slow and wait this one out. If Benn was interested as well, he would make a move when he was ready. In the meantime, all Shanks could do was show he was available.

He should really learn to be subtle.

“Are you done?” Benn suddenly asked, amusement clear in his voice. “My arms are getting tired.”

Startled from his thoughts, Shanks moved back a little. “Yeah,” he said, surprised at how hoarse he sounded. He cleared his throat and repeated, “Yes. Everything looks fine. Well, insofar I can see it.”

That was subtle, right?

There was a hint of a smile on Benn’s face. “That’s good to hear.”

“You have a lot of scars,” Shanks remarked.

“We all have our scars.” Benn’s eyes lingered on the parallel lines that ran over Shanks’ eye. He had sustained the wounds when he was younger, and they served as a painful reminder how weak he had been – and perhaps still was. A little deeper and they would have blinded him. Now, fortunately, the weapon causing the scars had only damaged his eye a little. Not that he had ever told anyone his sight in his left eye wasn’t what it used to be.

“I should probably get dressed now,” Benn said after silence had filled the room for a while.

“Probably,” Shanks said, nodding in agreement as he remained standing where he was.

Benn let out a chuckle and raised his eyebrow at Shanks.

Shanks pretended that it took a moment before he got the hint. “Oh, right! I should see to the horses.”

* * *

Sir Jozu and his men accompanied them for a while, until he would go in the direction of Benn’s lands. For now, though, Benn was glad they had company. He wasn’t sure what would happen once he and Shanks were alone again.

After what happened in Edward’s castle, Benn was fairly certain Shanks was as much attracted to him as he was to Shanks. To be honest, Benn wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep his hands to himself, especially when Shanks was the one not keeping his hands to himself, even if it was under the pretence of checking Benn’s wounds.

However, it had become evident that Shanks wasn’t going to make a move until Benn would initiate it, and Benn appreciated that. However much he liked Shanks and his company, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to jump into anything after being alone for so long, after having lost so much.

All too soon for Benn’s taste, Jozu took his leave of them. Benn’s mind was desperately searching for a topic that would not lead down a dangerous path. However, while he was thinking, Shanks apparently felt the need to fill the silence and started to chat about whatever seemed to come into his mind.

Benn managed to keep his hands to himself during the day, and he wondered if Shanks had noticed that he rode a little further away than he had before. If he had, though, he didn’t comment on it.

That evening, they found themselves still in the middle of nowhere. It was too cold to sleep outside without any cover, so they decided to take a break to only eat and rest a little, but ride on during the night. The sky was clear, so they could use the moonlight for guidance.

As Shanks was poking in the fire to get it going, Benn suddenly felt the irresistible urge to tell him something, even if he wasn’t sure why.

“I used to be married,” he blurted out.

Shanks looked up from what he was doing. “I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but you were thinking about it.” Benn sat down next to him and accepted the bread handed to him. “Our marriage was brief, as she died soon of an illness. There was hardly time to finish her portrait.”

“You don’t have to tell me things if you don’t want to,” Shanks said.

“I wouldn’t tell anything if I didn’t want to,” Benn replied. “But I know it’s been driving you crazy.” He couldn’t help the hint of a smile on his face. “It was a marriage of convenience, but it was sad that she died. Her fate was, ironically, kinder than mine.” The smile turned into a grimace.

Shanks reached out to him, seemed to hesitate, but finally placed a hand on Benn’s shoulder. They ate in silence for a while as Benn gathered the courage to ask Shanks a question. He knew next to nothing about him, after all, only what stories had told him. And while many turned out to be true, knowing about him didn’t mean he knew Shanks, and he very much wanted to get to know him.

“You never told me why you were near my lands,” he finally said, breaking the silence.

Shanks, drinking from the skin with wine, looked at him mid-sip. He swallowed and said, “You didn’t ask.”

“I’m asking now. You said you weren’t on a quest.”

Shanks hummed and took another draught of wine before handing the skin to Benn. He scrambled to his feet, his hands clasped together behind his back. “Have you heard what happened to Queen Rouge’s heir?”

Benn took a sip as he thought the question over. Shanks no doubt had a point, so he said, “I think I heard he died soon after being born.”

Shanks hummed. “That is the official story, yes.”

“It’s not true?”

Shanks made a face indicating that the answer was both yes and no. “It may be true.”

“Shouldn’t you know?” Benn asked.

Shanks turned his back to him, leaning forward as he seemed to study the bark of a tree intensely. “When the boy was a few months old, he was taken from his crib when we had our backs turned. Naturally, we searched for him, but we came up with only a bloodied blanket. The blanket he had been wrapped in. Obviously, people drew their conclusions.”

“But you didn’t?”

“I don’t know.” Shanks sighed deeply. “The queen doesn’t believe he is dead, and there are certainly some things about the story that don’t add up. Why didn’t the culprit kill the child when he was in the room? It was a baby. It literally doesn’t get any easier to kill something.”

“Maybe they couldn’t.”

“Yet they did later?”

“He could have changed his mind, or decide that the child was too much hassle,” Benn pointed out.

“True, it’s possible. But then it’s still unlikely that we would only find a bloodied blanket and no other remains. No bones, no entrails...”

Benn remained silent.

“Anyway,” Shanks continued. “You asked why I was near your lands. Around New Year, my lady always gets depressed because that was when the prince was born. I try to escape the depressed atmosphere then. Fortunately, there’s always a knight or damsel in distress, so I always have an excuse. So I go with them, save the day, and then...” He took a dramatic pause, and Benn wasn’t sure what he had to fill in there.

“I take my time getting back,” Shanks continued. “To look around, just in case...”

“Just in case you find the prince?” Benn asked.

“Yes. Over the years, I’ve thought I found him a lot of times, dragging the poor boys with me to the castle. Fortunately, Rayleigh, our seneschal, always stopped me before I could show them to the queen.” Shanks laughed hollowly. “She’s been through enough. False hope is the last thing she needs.”

Benn had the distinct feeling Shanks left something out of the story, but he didn’t ask.

“Anyway, to make a long story short, I met an old friend, who told me some black knight was terrorising the forest. And here we are,” Shanks concluded.

Benn nodded, but remained quiet.

They finished their food in silence. When they were done, Shanks extinguished the fire with his foot and mounted his horse while Benn followed his example. The night sky was clear and stars guided their path as they rode on.

The rest of the night, Shanks was unusually quiet, but come morning, like the sun, his dark mood seemed to lift. He started to chat about this and that again, greeting seemingly random people along the road who all seemed to know him. And why wouldn’t they? Shanks was, after all, one of the most famous knights in the realm.

Days passed as they continued their journey. Shanks made no move on Benn, much to his relief and dismay simultaneously.

Finally, a castle loomed up in the distance and Shanks pointed at it. “There it is!” He immediately spurred on his horse. Benn had no choice but to follow.

A horn sounded from one of the castle towers, and soon after, the drawbridge was lowered, despite it being nearly sundown. Benn guessed the guards had recognised the emblem on Shanks’ shield.

A figure suddenly approached, their horse’s hooves clattering on the wooden drawbridge. The man, as Benn could distinguish once he was closer, was older, his silvery hair gleaming almost gold in the light of the setting sun. His face was scarred and battle worn, and he rode his horse like a commanding officer. He didn’t have any armour on, though, as if he had ridden out in a hurry, no doubt to stop Shanks from doing anything stupid.

Shanks halted his horse when the man approached, his face beaming. “Rayleigh! Such a personal welcome!”

“You pull this stunt every time,” Rayleigh said, pulling at the reins to stop his horse as well. “When will you learn that not every twenty-year-old is the missing prince?”

“Oh, you mean Benn?” Shanks said. “He’s definitely no twenty-year-old.”

Benn took off his helmet to prove Shanks’ point. The man named Rayleigh studied him and seemed to agree that there was no way that Benn was a twenty-year-old, let alone a prince. He led his horse towards Benn and offered his hand.

“I’m Rayleigh.”

Benn remembered Shanks had mentioned that name as the one of the seneschal. He clasped Rayleigh’s arm. “Benn.”

“Is the queen available? Benn wants to meet her,” Shanks said. He almost bounced up and down in the saddle in excitement.

“She will make sure she is when she hears you’re back.” Rayleigh placed a hand on Shanks’ shoulder. “Welcome home.”

They followed Rayleigh to the castle. In the courtyard, several stable boys approached them and took the reins while they dismounted. As the horses were being led away, Benn followed the other two inside. Rayleigh took his leave from them, but Shanks led the way through the castle with confident strides.

Two servants approached them to help take off their armour and change their clothes. Benn felt slightly faint as he put on his tunic, but he supposed that was because they hadn’t had dinner yet. After they had spoken to the queen, he should ask for something to eat.

Managing to keep his composure, Benn followed Shanks through the halls, amused by the skip in Shanks’ step. He definitely seemed more relaxed now that he was home again.

The throne room was well lit, and the queen was the most radiant of all. Rouge was a beautiful woman, her face and hands adorned with freckles, and a hibiscus flower in her hair. She rose from her seat when she saw Shanks, her white dress falling elegantly around her slim body.

“Your Majesty.” Shanks inclined his head politely, but the grin on his face was big enough to split it in two.

“Welcome back, my lord,” the queen replied with a smile, sitting back down on the throne. Rayleigh was standing beside her.

Shanks approached her and kneeled down on the slightly elevated platform.

Rouge placed a hand gently on his face. “It’s good to see you back in one piece.” Her next move, however, came unexpected from a gentle lady. She placed her thumb on the other side of Shanks’ face, smushing it together so that he started to resemble a fish. “Why do you always leave around New Year’s, hm?”

“There are so many good places to celebrate the New Year,” Shanks replied, his voice sounding a bit strange because his face was still smushed.

Rouge sighed and let go of him. “I suppose I can’t really blame you. Did you have fun?”

“I did. And I even brought you a present!” Shanks jumped to his feet and moved towards Benn, nudging him to step forward.

Rouge’s eyebrows were raised as she looked at Benn expectantly. Benn let himself fall onto his knee, placing one hand on the floor and the other against his abdomen as he bowed his head. “My lady.” He took a deep breath when another wave of dizziness hit him. “My lady,” he repeated. “When Sir Shanks found me, I was trying to prevent any knight from entering the forest, challenging anyone to a dual. Sir Shanks was the first able to defeat me, and in exchange for my life, he told me to come here to swear loyalty to you, my Queen. So if you’ll have me, please let me be your knight.”

“What is your name, Sir Knight?” she asked.

“It’s Benn, Your Majesty.”

“Sir Benn, considering who sent you, I have no reason to doubt your prowess, your courage or your loyalty.”

As the queen spoke, Benn looked over his shoulder at Shanks, who was beaming with pride. It was almost endearing to see.

“So you are welcome to stay here and fight for Raftel,” Rouge concluded.

“Thank you, my Queen.” He bowed his head.

“You may rise, my lord.”

Benn tried to do so, but his body didn’t seem to listen to him. He got dizzy again, and black spots were dancing before his eyes. As he removed his hand from his stomach, he saw that it was red with blood.

“My lord?” he heard the queen ask worriedly, but her voice seemed to come from far away.

Benn saw a pair of legs run towards him, and instinctively, he knew it was Shanks coming for him. That was the last thought he had before everything went dark.

* * *

Shanks kneeled next to Benn’s collapsed body and checked if he could find a pulse.

“Is he all right?” Rouge asked, leaning over them.

“It seems he fainted.” Shanks looked at Benn’s hand that was still covered in blood with a worried frown and lifted up his tunic and shirt. As he feared, the bandages around Benn’s torso were drenched in blood. He hadn’t noticed sooner, because Benn hadn’t shown any signs of being in pain and his black clothes concealed the blood.

“Did you do that?” Rouge asked, reprimanding.

He looked up. “No, my lady. It’s an old wound that reopened during our fight.”

“And you let him travel!”

 Shanks winced as she scolded him. He was relieved when two servants came in with a stretcher on which they placed Benn. Shanks excused himself to go with them, though in part to escape his scolding.

He was relieved to see that the doctor was already waiting. Usually, he and Yasopp would celebrate his return extensively, preferably in the bar of Rayleigh’s wife, Shakky, but that would have to wait.

Yasopp helped the servants place Benn on the bed that stood ready in the room, before sending them away to get clean water. Shanks was allowed to stay – though, only to answer some questions, Shanks assumed.

Yasopp lifted up Benn’s shirt and clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Help me take off his shirt,’ he ordered Shanks.

“Gladly,” Shanks replied with a grin.

“Not so eager, Sir Pervert. The poor man is unconscious.”

Once Benn’s tunic and shirt were off, Yasopp removed the bandages. A servant returned with a bowl of water and some clean rags. Yasopp started to clean the wound and told Shanks to wash the blood off Benn’s hands.

“Go fetch some food. Something sweet, like fruit or bread with honey,” he said to the servant.

“You have a craving, Doc?” Shanks asked teasingly.

“I find that sweet food helps a patient recover quicker after losing a lot of blood,” Yasopp replied.

“So you think he’ll be okay?”

“If he keeps rest and you stop dragging him around, he should be.”

Shanks pouted. Why was everyone blaming him? Benn hadn’t told him about the wounds, or that he was in pain. So how should he know?

Benn’s eyelids started to tremble, and he opened his eyes.

“Morning, sunshine,” Shanks greeted him.

Benn seemed to realise his situation quite quickly and he groaned. “I can’t believe I fainted.”

“With the amount of blood you lost, I’m surprised you didn’t faint sooner,” Yasopp remarked.

“Benn, meet Yasopp, our doctor. Prepare to have your butt scolded,” Shanks couldn’t help but add smugly. For once, he wasn’t on the receiving end of a reprimanding. “Yasopp, Sir Benn.”

After introducing them, though, he was sent out of the room, and no amount of pouting seemed to help. He wandered around the castle for a while, greeting Roo, the head chef, and talking to him to kill some time. When he went back to see Benn, though, he was told that the queen was with him and did not wish to be disturbed, and Shanks hoped she didn’t enjoy her new toy a little too much.

* * *

By doctor’s orders, Benn stayed in bed for an entire week. He was bored, but fortunately, Shanks had time every now and then to keep him company. Even the queen herself graced him with her presence, and she agreed to take over the care for Benn’s people from Edward in a few months, when Benn was better and ready to travel again.

Benn got along very well with Yasopp, as well as Roo, the cook, who brought him his meals personally. Makino, the queen’s handmaiden, often stayed with him when the queen was too busy, her nimble hands embroidering various articles of clothing. She was a smart, kind woman, and Benn appreciated her spending time with him.

As soon as he was cleared to get out of bed, Benn went to the courtyard, where Shanks was teaching children how to swordfight. Benn had watched them before from the window in his room before, but he was dying to see it up close.

In the courtyard, he remained in the shadows not to disturb them, but Shanks already noticed him, if his smirk was anything to go by, though he never stopped his duel with a small boy. The kid seemed to be a decent swordfighter for someone his age, but of course, he wasn’t a match for Shanks.

Suddenly, as one, the other children charged with their wooden swords, and laughing, Shanks tried to fend them off. One kid managed to hit him in the arm.

Shanks grabbed it dramatically and exclaimed, “No, my arm! Well, it’s just a flesh wound.” As he said it, he looked over his shoulder and winked at Benn. Turning back to the children, he asked, “Well then, who wants to see a real fight?”

Of course, they all did, and Shanks beckoned Benn over. “I take it you’re allowed to be out of bed?” he asked as Benn passed.

“That I am. Though, I’m not sure that includes swordfighting,” Benn replied.

“I’ll be gentle,” Shanks replied with a smirk.

Benn let out a snort and accepted a practice sword from one of the kids, taking his position. Of course, the circumstances were nothing like at their first fight, where the stakes had been high. This was no fight to the death, yet Benn decided not to make it easy for Shanks.

Shanks seemed to think the same, as his hits followed each other quickly. There was a twinkle in his eye that Benn had missed the last time, because Shanks had been wearing a helmet then. Still, it excited him to know that Shanks enjoyed their fight as much as he did. Shanks moved with elegance and grace, moving out of the way of Benn’s attacks each time. Yet when he saw an opening, Shanks own attacks were merciless.

His red hair danced around his face, damp with sweat and glistening in the light of the low sun. It seemed even redder than usual. Benn could not tear his away from Shanks’ face, moving only on instinct, as he got lost in Shanks’ eyes.

Suddenly, something poked him in the chest, and when Benn looked down, he saw that the tip of Shanks’ wooden sword was located there. It seemed Benn hadn’t been paying much attention to their dual.

“Who can tell me what Sir Benn did wrong?” Shanks asked the children.

“He was distracted!” they called as one.

“Very good. Where his mind was, though, we’ll never know.” Shanks winked at Benn again, lowering his sword. Benn was certain he knew damn well what had distracted him.

Shanks collected the practice sword, sending the children home. Benn helped to carry the sword and followed Shanks silently inside the castle. In a room with all kinds of weaponry meant for practice, Shanks opened a chest and started to put the swords away.

Only then, with Shanks crouching down and turned away, Benn felt like he could say what had been on his mind for a long time.

“You do realise you saved my life, right?” His voice echoed through the room, louder than he had intended. It didn’t help that Shanks remained crouched down in the same position, not saying anything.

Finally, after what felt like hours to Benn, Shanks rose and walked over to him to take the remaining wooden swords from him. “I spared your life,” he said. “There is a big difference.”

But Benn shook his head. “You saved it. If you hadn’t come, I would have continued until I found someone better than me. Granted, it might have taken a while, but it would have happened. And there is no guarantee that they would have been as merciful as you were.”

Shanks let out a snort, taking the swords from him. “You don’t owe me anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. You kept your promise, remember? You’re here. Your debt has been paid.”

“That wasn’t what I was getting at.”

Shanks closed the chest and sat down on it.

“You know what I was thinking about during our fight, or at least the gist of it,” Benn said, his voice hoarse. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t spent the past week thinking about Shanks. He had dreamt about him every night, and each day, his desire for him had grown. Right now, it had reached levels Benn didn’t know if he was able to hold back anymore.

It didn’t help that Shanks did nothing to stop him, only encouraging him with that grin of his, telling Benn that he knew every thought in his head.

“I may have a hunch,” Shanks said, tilting his head to the side.

“You’re not going to do anything about it?”

Shanks placed his hands behind him on the chest, leaning back. “I’m ready when you are.”

Benn took it as an invitation. In two steps, he had crossed the small room and knelt down in front of Shanks. Placing a hand on his face, he waited a second for any sign that Shanks didn’t want this. When he didn’t see any, he leaned in and finally, finally, kissed him.

Shanks eagerly responded, pushing his tongue inside Benn’s mouth. Benn didn’t know where to leave his hands, so he opted for touching as much of Shanks’ body as possible.

He wasn’t sure how long they had been there like that, when Shanks touched his shoulder, and he pulled back.

Shanks rose from the chest, dusting off his clothes. He walked towards the door without saying a word, and Benn remained seated, not sure what was happening. Could he have read the situation wrong? Or was making out once all Shanks wanted?

His fears, though, were soothed when Shanks turned around, holding out his hand. “Are you coming? I think the doctor will agree with me that you should be in bed right now.”


	5. Chapter 4

He hadn’t actually expected Ace to show up, but when Marco arrived in the clearance in the wood where he had first met Ace, Ace was sitting on a branch. One foot was dangling down and he looked utterly bored. When he noticed Marco, he hopped down to the ground.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Marco dismounted.

Ace snorted, like he didn’t believe Marco to be sincere. “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

“You don’t think this’ll be the only lesson you get?” Marco asked, his eyebrows raised. “You won’t learn how to swordfight in a day. I’m not _that_ good.”

“Obviously, I’m wasting my time then.”

“I don’t think it’s a waste of time,” Marco said.

“Why not?!” Ace stamped his foot, and Marco raised his eyebrow. “Why are you so intent on teaching me anything?!”

“You really want to get rid of me, don’t you?” Marco smirked.

Ace looked around, and there was a certain vehemence in his eyes that caught Marco off guard. The smirk disappeared from his face as it became clear that Ace’s dislike for him was not playful banter as he had hoped. Ace genuinely wanted him gone.

Still, his pride didn’t allow him to back down, though a small part of him hoped Ace would change his mind if they spend more time together. “Well, you gave me your word, so you’re stuck with me.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, s _ir_ , I’m not a knight. I have no code of honour I have to live up to. I can do whatever I want,” Ace snapped.

“You did come here,” Marco couldn’t help but point out. “You’ve had to have some reason for that.”

Ace remained silent for a moment. “I must have,” he finally said, “but I can’t remember what that was.” Before Marco could say another word, he had climbed a tree and had disappeared between the foliage.

“Ace!” Marco called, but he didn’t actually expect him to listen. He climbed on his horse and rode in the direction Ace had disappeared, but it was no use. If Ace didn’t want to be found, Marco wouldn’t find him. Not here.

Frustrated, he combed with his hand through his hair. He messed that up real good. He couldn’t believe he had read the situation that badly – or perhaps he had just hoped Ace was just pretending  to dislike him.

He hadn’t been ready to admit it to himself – though he had known deep down – that he kind of liked Ace, even if there was no rational reason to do so. Ace hadn’t exactly been pleasant, not to mention the fact that he had tried to rob him and caused him to fall into the river.

And yet... Marco had seen a glimpse of something else in Ace’s eyes when he saved him, or when he came to the monastery to see if Marco was okay. But perhaps Marco had just misinterpreted all that. Ace had clearly decided that he didn’t like Marco, and unless he changed his mind – something Marco didn’t think likely to happen – Marco wouldn’t see him again.

With a sigh, Marco turned his horse. He had one more stop before he headed home.

The monastery looked as peaceful as he had left it, and it didn’t take long for Marco to spot the person he was looking for. Sabo was carrying a bucket filled with seeds, which he was currently strewing around for the chickens.

Marco dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby tree. He approached carefully as not to startle the chickens, but the snow crackled underneath his boots, and the birds scattered.

Sabo turned around and smiled when he saw Marco. “Back so soon? I hope Ace hasn’t thrown you into the river again?” he added cheerfully.

Marco forced a smile on his face, something he didn’t feel when he was reminded of Ace, and approached Sabo. “No, brother. I just came to bring something, as a token of my appreciation.” He handed Sabo a purse filled with coins.

Sabo weighed the pouch in his hand. “Another donation? That is very generous of you. Bless you. Our humble little monastery can definitely use this.”

“It’s the least I can do since you may very well have saved my life,” Marco said. “Oh, and before I forget, please give King Edward’s regards to the abbot and say he is always welcome in the palace.”

Sabo grinned. “Will do.”

* * *

Ace decided that instead of moping alone, he’d rather whine to someone. There was only one person he wanted to share this with – Dadan wasn’t an option – so he headed out to the monastery.

He hadn’t meant to be so mean to Marco, he really hadn’t. Unlike most knights Ace had had an encounter with, Marco wasn’t so bad. He was kind of nice, if slightly annoying, and for some reason, Ace liked being near him.

However, because of his stubbornness, he had chased him off. Ace doubted he would come back. What would be the point? Marco had called after him, but he didn’t know the forest like Ace did. Ace knew every hiding spot.

He had considered looking for him, to apologise, but he had lost track of Marco soon enough. Besides, on a horse, he could be halfway home already.

Ace exited the woods and almost collided with a monk, though not the one he was looking for. “Hi Koala,” he said.

“Hi Ace,” she replied. “What brings you here?”

“I’m looking for Sabo. Is he here?”

“He is, but he’s talking with someone right now. Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked.

Ace fidgeted, unsure what to say.

“Oh, come on, you can talk to me,” Koala encouraged him.

After a moment of hesitation, he said, “It’s about that blond knight...”

“Oh, you mean Marco? Sabo’s talking with him right now.”

“What?!” Ace forgot to be quiet for a moment, but hastily slapped a hand over his mouth. He grabbed Koala’s wide sleeve and pulled her along as he moved backwards into the bushes, forcing her to squad down.

“What’s the matter with you?!” Koala asked, slightly irritated.

“What do you mean, he’s here?” Ace hissed, ignoring her question. “Why is he here?”

“How should I know? Go ask him.” Koala huffed and dusted herself down.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Ace remained silent, biting his lip as he looked away.

Koala’s face brightened. “You like him!” she exclaimed.

“Keep your voice down! And I do not,” Ace hissed.

She snorted. “You so do.”

“ _You_ like him,” Ace countered.

Koala raised her eyebrows. “He thinks I’m a monk who has taken a vow of silence. Not a great way to start a relationship.” She looked over her shoulder. “Besides, if he looked in this direction right now, he’d think I was peeing.”

“If he thinks you’re a man, he’d expect you to pee standing up,” Ace pointed out.

“Fair enough.” She looked over her shoulder. “You might want to think about what you’re gonna say, though, since he’s heading this way.”

“What?!” Ace shrieked again. Talking to Marco was the last thing he wanted. Panicking, he tried to flee, but he hadn’t expected Koala to actually tackle him, throwing him down in the bushes.

Hurried footsteps approached, stopping next to them. “Are you alright, brother?” Ace heard Marco ask worriedly.

Koala scrambled to her feet, keeping her face turned away from Marco as she nodded.

“S... He’s fine. He’s a sturdy lad,” Sabo said cheerfully as he slammed down on Koala’s shoulder with his hand. Ace knew that she would kill him for that later – he no doubt did too. However, now wasn’t the time, and Koala hastily scurried off.

“Are you okay?” Marco asked again, this time directed at Ace. He held out his hand to help him up, but Ace stubbornly scrambled to his feet on his own.

“What are you doing here?!” he spat at Marco.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“He came here to make a donation to the monastery,” Sabo mixed in the conversation. “Very generously, if I may say so.”

“I’m not here for you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Ace snapped at Marco, ignoring Sabo. “I didn’t even know you were here. I’m here for Sabo.”

“Well, here I am,” Sabo said.

Ace opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He could hardly tell Sabo right now why he was here, with Marco standing next to him. So he kept silent.

Marco seemed to get the hint, combing with a hand through his hair. “Look, if I have done something to offend you–”

“Your whole being offends me!”

“Why?” Marco asked. “What have I done?”

“I told you, he doesn’t like knights. But it looks like you have a lot to talk about, so I’ll leave you to it.” Whistling, Sabo walked away.

A silence fell between them, and Ace crossed his arms before his chest defiantly, refusing to say anything and hoping Marco would just go away.

Unfortunately, he did no such thing. Instead, Marco said, “I know you don’t like knights, but the least you could do is give me a chance. I don’t like thieves, yet here I am.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Ace snapped. “And I really don’t know why you’re so insistent. Don’t say it’s because you like to annoy me.”

“I just really think it would be good if you learned how to swordfight.”

“Why?”

A smirk appeared on Marco’s face. “To show up arrogant knights.”

Despite himself, Ace had to smile. “Alright, three lessons. By then, you either should have taught me well enough or have convinced me why we should continue.”

Marco’s smirk grew even more. “Deal.”

“I’m not sure how you’re gonna teach me, though,” Ace said as he led Marco back into the forest. Marco’s horse remained tied to the tree, which it didn’t appear to mind, as there was a patch of grass just within its reach. “I don’t even own a sword.”

“You won’t need it for now,” Marco replied.

When Ace decided that they were far enough from prying eyes – Sabo’s and Koala’s prying eyes, to be exact – he turned towards Marco. “Alright, teach me, master.” He really couldn’t help the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“How about we start with your stance,” Marco said, walking around Ace with a critical look on his face.

“What’s wrong with my stance– Oi!” Ace exclaimed indignantly when Marco shoved him and he almost lost his balance.

“ _That’s_  what’s wrong with it,” Marco said, slightly triumphant. “You can’t win a swordfight if you opponent can trip you over. Place your feet a little further apart, so that you’re standing firm.”

Ace did what he was told and was pleased when Marco couldn’t push him over right away. However, because of that, he wasn’t focusing on his stance anymore, and another shove caused him to stumble again.

They tried a few more times, but eventually, Marco always managed the throw him off balance.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!” Ace whined.

“How about you try to throw me off balance,” Marco suggested and took his position.

Ace circled him, like Marco had done with him, waiting for a moment that Marco let his guard down. Thinking that moment had come, he jumped forward, trying to push him over. Instead of falling over, however, Marco hooked his foot behind Ace’s leg, tripping him up so that he fell face first in the snow. It had happened so quickly that he hadn’t been able to react. Dumbfounded, he looked around at Marco.

Marco stood in the same place as he had been, trying to hold his laughter, failing miserably. It started as a chuckle behind his hand, but soon enough he was doubled over, his laugh resounding against the bare trees.

Ace didn’t mind as much as he pretended to do, hiding behind a scowl. He liked to make him laugh, and he liked the sound of Marco’s laugh. It gave him a fluttering feeling. Still, he wasn’t going to tell Marco that.

“That’s not fair!” he said, sounding indignantly as he scrambled to his feet and wiped the snow from his clothes. “I was supposed to throw _you_ over.”

Marco finally seemed to calm down, wiping away a tear. “Never trust your opponent,” he said with a wink.

“I want a do-over.”

Marco shrugged and took his position again. Ace smirked, taking a few steps back. Marco looked surprised, his eyes widening slightly when Ace started to run towards him. His arms wrapped themselves around Ace as Ace tackled him, and he let out an ‘Oof’ when he landed on the ground with Ace on top of him.

Ace grinned down at him. “Never trust your opponent.”

“I’m glad I taught you something after all.”

A silence fell between them. Ace felt his heart hammering in his chest, and it wasn’t because of the running.

“I think I mastered the stance,” he finally croaked out.

Marco nodded. “Yes, I think it’s time for the next step.”

Ace moved off him, his cheeks burning for some reason. “What are you doing?” he asked when Marco suddenly walked away.

“I need to find a stick,” Marco replied, bending down to pick something up. Clearly, the stick he picked up did not meet his approval as he threw it away again.

“Why?”

“’Cause I don’t have proper practice swords with me.”

Ace snorted. “Some instructor you are. So unprepared.”

Marco shot him a glance over his shoulder, but eventually, he seemed to find what he was looking for. With two sticks that seemed to have the same length as Marco’s sword, he returned, handing one to Ace. “Okay, take your stance.”

Ace rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.

“Now stop holding your sword like it’s a magic wand.”

Ace looked over his shoulder at Marco. “It’s a stick.”

“Now it’s your sword. Here, hold it like this.” He drew his own sword and demonstrated. “Good, now swing it.”

Ace did as he was told, the stick slipping from his grasp. “Oops.”

Marco let out a snort and rolled his eyes. “Try again.” This time, though, he stepped behind Ace, his chest pressing against Ace’s back as he wrapped his hand around Ace’s. “Like this.” He moved his hand, taking Ace’s with him.

“Is this really necessary?” Ace asked hoarsely. His mouth had gone dry and his heart was beating twice as fast as usual for some reason.

Marco hummed, and Ace could practically feel the vibrations run through him. “Not strictly. But it’s to keep warm.”

“I’m not cold.”

“I am.”

Ace huffed, trying to hide the state he was in. Marco had a strange effect on him, but he couldn’t say he disliked the feeling.

The rest of the afternoon, they practiced sword fighting, and Ace actually started to enjoy it – though he also liked Marco’s company. The sun was already low in the sky when Marco announced he had to leave.

Ace tried to hide his disappointment. “Okay, bye,” he said.

“Same time next week?” Marco asked.

Ace sighed deeply, as if he wasn’t looking forward to that at all. “Fine. I guess I promised.” He pretended that the smile Marco flashed him didn’t cause the fluttering feeling in his stomach again.

* * *

Marco was pleased to see that Ace actually seemed excited to see him when he arrived the next week, even though he tried to hide it. Marco was fine with that.

It also pleased him to see that Ace was making progress with the swordfighting. The second lesson they even tried sparring a little with the wooden practice swords that Marco had brought. Those usually were used by pages to practice their skills.

However, no matter how certain Marco was that Ace minded his company much less than he let on, the third time he arrived in the forest for Ace’s lessons, Marco couldn’t help but feel nervous. Ace had said three lessons, and by then Marco should have convinced him to continue. He hoped he had, but what if he hadn’t? He had one lesson left, and there was still so much he wanted to show to Ace. And, in all honesty, he just wanted to spend more time with him.

During their lessons Ace was acting less... unpleasant, and Marco had seen more and more glimpses of the person he actually believed Ace was. It had only served for Marco to like him more, and sometimes he had the distinct feeling that Ace might feel the same.

Ace was already present at the clearance, sitting on a rock. When he saw Marco, he jumped up and smiled, but then seemed to think better of it and frowned.

Marco dismounted, his feet making no sound on the soft forest ground. The snow had melted by now, and early signs of spring started to snow. Snowdrops were popping up now that the ground was no longer frozen.

Marco unsaddled his horse, as they would take all day to train and the animal wouldn’t wander off too far anyway.

Ace approached, fishing an apple from his pocket, which he fed to the horse. He had done so the last time as well, and it wasn’t surprising that Marco’s horse had taken a liking to Ace.

“Are you ready to start?” Marco asked, taking the practice swords from the saddlebags.

“Sure. It’s lesson three, so I better be a sword grandmaster after this,” Ace replied.

“You haven’t changed you mind?”

“You haven’t tried to change it yet.”

“Should I?”

Ace shrugged and swung the sword around as he had practiced.

Marco sighed, giving Ace some pointers. He wasn’t sure if Ace wanted him to try to change his mind, and he couldn’t exactly drop by unannounced, as he would never find Ace then.

“Do you want to try holding a real sword?” he asked.

“Finally!” Ace threw the practice sword on the ground and almost hopped up and down with excitement when Marco handed him his sword.

Marco could barely jump out of the way when Ace swung the weapon around. “Careful! I’d like to keep my head.”

“Sorry!” A little more careful, Ace gripped the sword as he had been taught, swinging it again. “You know,” he suddenly said, “I wanted to become a knight when I was little. I really admired them. The me from then would not believe I’m now holding an actual sword.”

“I’m sorry you had to give up on your dream.”

“It wasn’t really a dream.” Ace turned the sword and looked at the handle, smiling gently. “Just a stupid childhood wish. I mean, I can’t even become a knight if I wanted to, not having noble blood and all.”

“Neither do I.”

Ace looked up, surprised.

“Edward doesn’t care where you come from. I was adopted by him when I was little, but I don’t know who my biological parents are,” Marco said.

Ace was silent for a moment before he started to speak. “I never knew my parents either,” he said, his voice soft. “I was found by Gramps. Whether my parents are dead or just abandoned me, I don’t know.”

Marco remained quiet while Ace talked. Though they had spent several days together, Marco knew next to nothing about Ace. They had talked about this and that, but their conversations had been limited to current events. Marco only knew Ace was a thief who lived in the forest, and, in all honesty, he wasn’t even sure about that. As far as he knew, Ace could have seized an opportunity when they first met and lived somewhere else entirely. They hadn’t shared any personal information, and Marco was excited that Ace finally seemed to open up.

“I used to fantasise I was the son of nobles, maybe even royalty,” Ace continued and laughed. “But that’s just plain silly, isn’t it? It would have made easier to become a knight, though.” He sighed. “Anyway, sorry, I’m rambling. Wouldn’t want to waste your last class.”

Marco nodded, slightly disappointed that Ace didn’t share some more information about himself. It would seem he had to earn the right to hear about it.

Halfway through the lesson, they took a break to eat. Since the first lesson, they had the silent arrangement to share their food. Ace had taken a liking to grapes, so Marco made sure he took them with them. In turn, Ace shared with him the meat he had with him. Marco had decided not to ask about the source of the food, as it was not allowed to hunt in the emperor’s forest. It was very good meat, though.

“So, do you feel like a sword grandmaster yet?” Marco asked, repressing a smile when Ace popped a grape in his mouth.

“Not per se. But there is only one way to test my skills.”

“You want to spar again?”

Ace nodded.

When they had finished eating, Marco retrieved the practicing swords again, as he only had one real sword, handing on to Ace. Marco parried Ace’s strikes automatically, years of training kicking in, as he paid more attention to Ace’s footwork and techniques. He had definitely improved since the first lesson, so Marco decided to spice things up a little. Instead of only parrying Ace’s strikes, he started to attack.

Ace seemed to be surprised at first, but managed to duck out of the way. However, there was definitely something off about his form. Marco couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was in the air.

“Ace, mind your footwork,” Marco warned. “You’re letting yourself be pushed back.”

Ace remained silent, but he was still being driven back by Marco, even if he could parry the strikes. His back hit a tree. Another strike from Marco, and his sword slipped from his hand.

Marco sighed and combed with his hand through his hair. “That was really terrible. I know you can do much better...” He trailed off when he looked at Ace.

Ace was still standing against the tree, his attention not on the lost sword, but only on Marco. There was something in his eyes that Marco recognised instantly. Completely forgotten about the lecture he was about to give, Marco leaned in and pressed his lips against Ace’s.

Despite the fact that Ace did nothing to stop him or push him away, it only took Marco’s brain a few seconds to catch up with the situation, and he pulled back. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Are you saying it was an accident?” Ace asked.

Marco hesitated for a moment, before he said, “Yes.”

“You’re so clumsy.” Before Marco knew what was happening, Ace grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling him towards him until their lips met again. This time, Marco was content to stay where he was, the sword lesson completely forgotten.

Ace’s hands moved slightly up, intertwining with Marco’s hair. This time, Marco didn’t pull back, instead leaning into him and pinning him against the tree. Their lips moved together, and Ace was just as eager as Marco was.

Finally, Marco pulled back slightly, leaning with his forehead against Ace’s as he let out a happy sigh. “Good things can come out of accidents.”

“So it would seem,” Ace said with a smile. His hands were resting on Marco’s upper arms, gently rubbing them. “So what about the swordfighting?”

“That’s up to you.”

Ace hummed, wrapping his arms around Marco’s neck. “I think it was enough for today.” He leaned in to kiss Marco again. When he pulled back, he continued, “But you’d better be here next week.”

“Yeah?” Marco smirked. “So I changed your mind after all?”

“If you haven’t noticed by now, that’s rather telling of you dumb knights.” Ace laughed when Marco pinned him back against the tree in mock-annoyance and kissed him again.

The rest of the afternoon, they spent talking about their lives, kissing more than occasionally. The sun was already setting when Marco cast a worried look at the sky.

“I really have to go now.” It wasn’t the first time he had announced that, but the previous times, Ace had successfully distracted him from his plan. This time, however, he seemed to reluctantly agree that Marco indeed had to go.

Marco kissed him intensely before mounting his horse. “See you next week.”

Ace waved until Marco had disappeared between the trees, spurring on his horse as soon as he was out of the woods. He wouldn’t make it home before dark, but maybe he would arrive before everyone had gone to bed. Though, it might be better to arrived when people were asleep, to avoid annoying questions of where he had been. And those would definitely come, not in the least because Marco couldn’t get the smirk off his face.

He certainly hadn’t expect today to go the way it did, but boy, was he glad that it had. For the first time, he almost wished he wasn’t Edward’s seneschal so he could spend more time with Ace. This was going to be a long week.

* * *

Days crept by way to slowly for Ace’s taste. He spent his days hunting and, if the occasion allowed for it, thieving, but he was easily distracted, his thoughts turning to Marco. His smile, his soothing voice, the way his lips felt against Ace’s...

Ace had never yearned for someone like this before, and of course, Sabo didn’t help much by teasing him relentlessly. Almost immediately when Ace arrived at the monastery, Sabo seemed to know what was going on, elbowing Koala in the ribs and shooting her knowing looks.

Finally, the day Marco would come arrived, and Ace found himself at the clearing ridiculously early, but he couldn’t wait. Yet waiting was what he had to do. He tried to kill some time by practicing some swordfighting moves, even though he was pretty sure today wouldn’t be about lessons. Well, no lessons in swordfighting anyway.

Time ticked by, and yet Marco hadn’t shown up yet. It was well past the time he usually arrived by now, and Ace was getting slightly annoyed. Pacing up and down, he waited some more, before making a frustrated sound and walking to the edge of the forest. No one even remotely looking like Marco was heading his way.

By nightfall, Ace gave up. Defeated, he returned to the robbers’ den, ignoring questions by Dadan. In bed, he wondered why Marco hadn’t shown up. Was it because they kissed? Did he regret doing that? If that was the case, though, he should come and talk to Ace. Besides, he hadn’t seemed too bothered by it when he left last week.

So what then? Would something have happened? Marco was an amazing knight, and Ace couldn’t imagine him being more than a little hurt. Had he forgotten? Had work come between?

Driving himself crazy wasn’t going to solve anything, though, so Ace resolved to just go to Edward’s castle in the morning and see for himself. Soon after he made that decision, he fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, he stuffed his face with breakfast and had barely swallowed it when he was out the door, calling over his shoulder that it might get late. Not waiting for a response, he ran towards the monastery. Of course, he arrived at Prime and had to wait until the monks had finished their prayer before he could drag Sabo with him.

“Gimme a horse,” he said.

“Will you give your kingdom for it?” Sabo replied, clearly amused by Ace’s urgency.

Ace looked at him confused. “What?”

“Never mind. What do you need it for?”

Ace opened his mouth to reply, but then looked away. “You’ll only make fun of me.”

“Oh? Might it have anything to do with a certain knight someone claimed to hate, but then made out with said knight just last week?” Sabo asked, barely holding back his laughter.

“Shut up,” Ace muttered. “Just gimme a horse.”

“Alright, alright. You can have a horse. But we’ll need it back, you hear?” Sabo headed for the stables.

“Like I’d lose a horse.”

“You’ve lost weirder things.”

“Liar. Just gimme the horse.”

Sabo rolled his eyes and started saddling a brown mare. “Do you even know where you need to go?” he asked when he was done.

“That way.” Ace pointed in the general direction he always saw Marco leave in.

“Wrong. Go to the road, okay? Ace, are you listening?” When Ace turned back to him, he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Go to the road-”

“You already said that.”

“Now you know how I always feel,” Koala’s voice suddenly said. She entered the stable, an amused look on her face. “Go left on the road, Ace, and then straight on. You should be there in about two to three hours.”

Ace nodded, before turning to Sabo. “See? If you’d just said that.”

Sabo narrowed his eyes, but made no comment. He helped Ace mount the horse, but when Ace wanted to take the reins, he held on to them. “Ace? You do realise things in the castle are a little bit different than in the forest or here in the monastery.”

“I know.”

“Do you, though? I know you like Marco, but...”

“I haven’t changed my mind about knights if that’s what you mean,” Ace said. “He’s just an exception.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.” Sabo sighed and let go of the reins. “Well, good luck.”

“Thanks. Bye Koala!” With that, Ace spurred on the horse.

Following Koala’s directions, Ace landed on a busy road that led to the town surrounding the castle, or so he heard. He hadn’t left the forest for a long time, and he instantly felt uncomfortable surrounded by so many people. He avoided eye contact as much as possible and kept his head low.

Soon enough, the castle loomed at the horizon, growing with each step Ace’s horse took. He had seen the castle before when he was little, when he had suck off one time to visit a tournament. Knights from all over the world had participate, he was told. It was there that he had met the rude and arrogant knights who ruined the rest for him.

Now, though, he was wondering if Marco had participated in that tournament too. He was older than Ace was, Ace knew that, so it would have been possible. Marco wouldn’t have been unkind to him, though. However, Ace didn’t think they had met. He would have remembered Marco’s beautiful blue shield with the phoenix on it.

He was forced to slow his pace when he arrived at the town, as there were a lot of people who wanted to go through the gates, either in or out. When Ace was finally in, he rode through the streets in the direction of the castle. He assumed that the broadest road would lead him there, which appeared to be correct.

The gates of the castle were open and the portcullis was up. Seeing his goal up close, though, Ace lost his nerve and slowed his horse down. He had no idea if they would allow him in, and if they did, if he would be brought before the king. He just wanted to see Marco.

Making a decision, Ace dug his heels in the flanks of the horse. The animal reared up before it started to head towards the gates. The guards, who had been leaning lazily on their halberds, chatting, looked in Ace’s direction startled when they heard fast hoof steps approach, jumping out of the way as Ace rode through the gates.

Ace looked over his shoulder and saw the guards scrambling to their feet, yelling at him to stop. Of course, he wasn’t going to do that. If he did and they caught him, who knew what they would do with him. Finding Marco was his only option.

With no clue where he was going, Ace rode on through the halls. Servants jumped out of the way, startled, and yelled obscenities at him. Ace yelled an apology back and rode on, never stopping.

A large, open door loomed up, and before Ace knew it, he found himself in a large room. It was a dead end, and he was forced to stop. In front of him, an enormous throne was standing, on which an equally large man was sitting, a crown decorating his head. King Edward.

Holding on tightly to the reins, Ace looked around nervously, unsure what to do. He scanned the knights in the room, but he didn’t see Marco. Wasn’t he supposed to be the right hand of the king? Shouldn’t he be here?

The room had gone completely quiet. A black haired man, who appeared to have been talking when Ace rode in, looked at him, his mouth still open. The guards came running in, slowing down when they saw that Ace was surrounded.

Just as Ace was contemplating leaving the way he came in, a man, a knight no doubt, stepped forward. He had brown hair and a scar around his left eye, but his expression was a friendly one. “Hi there,” he greeted Ace cheerfully. “How about you step down from that horse?”

Ace hesitated. Right now, he had an advantage over everyone in the room, even if he was only armed with a dagger.

“It’s not really common to take a horse into the throne room, you see?” the man continued. “You never know when one poops, after all.”

Ace couldn’t help but snort, reminded of Luffy’s weird obsession with whether or not people could poop. Still, he didn’t move.

“I will take good care of,” the knight ducked to check something, “her, I promise. I’ll just bring her to the stables so she’ll get water and hay, while you tell the king what he can help you with.”

Ace looked around uncomfortably. The suggestion of the knight sounded reasonable, and his surroundings didn’t seem hostile per se. Not even the guards had moved, waiting for an order. Considering that most people in the room were knights, Ace really wouldn’t stand a chance.

Reluctantly, he dismounted, handing the reins to the knight. He thanked Ace cheerfully and led the animal out of the room.

“Well then,” the king suddenly spoke, and Ace startled from the booming voice, “tell me your name, son.”

It took Ace a little off guard. No one had ever called him son before, but he wasn’t sure if he liked it. He did feel really small now that he didn’t have a horse to sit on anymore. Most people in the room were just as tall or taller than him, and he wasn’t short. Edward towered over everyone present.

Still, it was too late to back down now, so Ace put up a defiant face and turned to the king. “It’s Ace.”

“And why have you come here, Ace?”

Ace’s eyes scanned the room one more time, but if Marco had been there, he would have come forward by now. “I’m here for Marco.”

“Marco?” Edward’s eyebrows rose and he plucked at his white moustache.

The black haired man, also a knight, it seemed, hurried over to the throne and whispered something in Edward’s ear. Edward hummed and nodded. “Yes, that’s very well possible. Thank you, Izo.” He turned back to Ace. “Marco is not here currently. But you can wait for him here, if you want.”

Ace hesitated, when Izo suddenly stepped forward again. “Yes, and take a bath, because you smell.”

“I washed myself like a week ago,” Ace replied, offended.

Izo looked at him like he had just offered him a dead fish. The silence was suddenly broken by loud laughter, and Ace could swear the ground moved. The rest of the people in the hall soon followed suit.

“Izo, please take care of our guest,” Edward said when he had calmed down. “Let the cooks whip him up something to eat and make sure a bath is run for him.”

A little taken aback by the warm welcome, Ace followed Izo when he beckoned him. Izo introduced himself officially and led Ace through the hallways. People were still picking up items they had dropped when Ace rode through the halls. They shot him nasty looks, but didn’t comment.

Izo looked over his shoulder. “You’ve made quite a mess.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t come in castle very often, do you?” Izo asked.

“No.”

“How do you know Marco?”

Ace remained silent. He didn’t want to tell Izo he was just a lowly thief. His clothes were dirty and worn down, so Izo must have realised he wasn’t a prince or anything.

Izo seemed to realise Ace preferred not to answer, though Ace wasn’t sure what kind of conclusions he reached. “Alright. Marco will have to decide if you can stay or not. Here we are.”

The smell betrayed that they had indeed arrived at the kitchen, and soon enough, Ace was served a plate filled with various delicious dishes. He stuffed his face, while Izo waited with a disgusted look on his face.

When he was finished, he thanked the cook for the meal and followed Izo to their next destination, wherever that was. It turned out to be a room with a tub filled with hot water. Ace had never taken an actual bath before. When he was little, he had bathed in a barrel, and once had outgrown that, he washed himself in the river, no matter the season. He liked hot water, but he didn’t mind cold.

“Take your time washing yourself,” Izo told him. “I will bring you clean clothes. And, you know, use the soap.” With that, he left.

The servants who had been filling the bath asked him if he wanted some cold water mixed with the hot, but he said it was fine and they left the room as well.

Ace took off his clothes, dropping them carelessly on the ground. Excited, he walked over to the tub and dipped his toe in, enjoying heat of the water. With a satisfied grown, he lowered himself into the water. He could get used to this.

* * *

Marco was having a very bad day. He had taken the mission, certain that he would be back in time to meet with Ace, but of course he was held up at the meeting and was forced to spend the night in the castle of the lord he was dealing with.

He had made it a point to leave at dawn, heading straight for the forest where Ace lived, but Ace hadn’t been here. Marco was a day late after all, so he wouldn’t find Ace if he didn’t show himself. He had called for him, but there was no reply, and why should there? Ace probably thought that he had stood him up.

Marco had hoped – or perhaps deluded himself into believing – that Sabo perhaps knew where Ace was. But – just Marco’s luck – Sabo hadn’t been at the monastery. The silent monk had seemed to try to tell him something, but since he couldn’t talk, that message didn’t come across. Then the monk had suddenly ran off after making some wild gestures. Marco had just been too tired, so he left, longing for home and his own bed.

He had no idea how he could make it up to Ace. He could only hope Sabo would be back soon and would be willing to convey a message. Until then, Marco couldn’t do nothing but wait.

“Look who’s back,” Thatch greeted him when Marco had stabled his horse and dragged himself into the castle. “Had fun negotiations?”

Marco shot him a deadly look.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Thatch said with a snort.

Izo, who was standing next to Thatch, suddenly elbowed Thatch in the ribs and shot him knowing look. “He does look tired, doesn’t he? You know what you should do, Marco? Take a long, hot bath.”

Thatch let out a snort, trying to hold back his laughter. “Oh, yes. A bath. That’s something you should definitely take.”

Marco looked from one to the other, sure that they were jerking him around.

“Actually, I had just a bath filled for me,” Izo said, failing miserably at keeping a neutral face. “You can take it, you need is much more than I do.”

“Okay...” Marco said, still not sure what was going on. Still, a warm bath sounded very appealing. He would just have to make sure to check the water before he go in it. “Thank you.”

“Have fun!” Izo called after him as he made his way to the bathroom. They didn’t even wait until Marco was out of earshot before bursting into laughter.

Marco sighed and shook his head. He could always kill them later. He called over a servant to tell the king he was back and would meet with him soon to report about his mission. It had been nothing important, just something about taxes and he had gotten his way, but still the king should know about it. First that bath, though.

Marco opened the door of the bathroom, a folding screen obscuring his view to the piping hot bath that should be standing ready for him. Starting to take off the belt on which his sword was hanging, Marco passed the folding screen.

His sword fell onto the stone floor with a loud clang.

“Marco!” Ace said from the tub, in which he sat very wet and very naked, Marco’s brain unhelpfully reminded him. “You’re back.”

“You’re naked,” Marco stammered.

“Well, yeah. I’m taking a bath.” Ace placed his hands on the edge of the tub as if he was going to stand up, and Marco turned away to spare himself a heart attack.

“What are you doing here?” Marco asked, trying to ignore the splashing sound of water that brought images to his head. He heard Ace’s wet feet step on the stone floor, and he closed his eyes even though he already had his back turned to Ace.

“Looking for you, obviously. I was wondering why you didn’t show up, so I came here. The king said that you had something to take care of and Izo said I smelled, so here I am.”

Marco chanced a look over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. Ace was drying his hair, the towel dangling down, right in front of his crotch as if it was taunting Marco. Marco turned back to the wall.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” he said. “I did stop by this morning, but you weren’t there, so I looked for Sabo, but he wasn’t there. I think that silent monk was trying to tell me something, though. Probably that you were here.”

“You mean Koal-” Ace sounded like he cut himself off, though Marco didn’t know why.

“Is that his name?” Marco asked. “Well yeah, I guess so.” He heard some rustling of fabric and waited a moment until he imagined Ace was fully dressed before turning around. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Ace.

“What?” Ace asked, obviously feeling uncomfortable. “Izo took my clothes. Do I look weird?”

“You look great.”

“I look like a knight,” Ace said with a pout, struggling to fix his tunic.

Marco smiled and walked towards him, taking the belt that lay ready and putting it around Ace’s waste.

“Are you mad I’m here?” Ace asked softly, as he let Marco work.

Marco looked up. “Of course not. In fact, I’m very happy you’re here. I was afraid that I messed up.” He straightened and gently brushed a lock of hair behind Ace’s ear. “Can I kiss you?”

Ace nodded, and Marco leaned in, kissing Ace softly. It was still kind of surreal that he was in fact here, in Marco’s home. He hadn’t just presumed that Marco had stood him up, but had come here to investigate, despite the fact that he didn’t like knights.

“Where they nice to you?” he asked as he pulled back.

Ace nodded. “Surprisingly so, considering I kind of barged in on horseback...”

“You did what?” Marco couldn’t hold back his laughter, imagining what it would have looked like for Ace to ride into the throne room on a horse.

“Shut up!” Ace slapped him against his chest. “I didn’t think they would let me in otherwise.”

Marco immediately regretted laughing and pulled Ace close. He knew the knights, his family, well enough to know that they would never turn anyone away, but Ace didn’t know that.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” Marco said, holding out his hand. Ace took it, but then suddenly stopped.

“Wait, didn’t you come here to take a bath?”

“I can take one later,” Marco replied. “Izo may complain that I smell, but I don’t care.”

Ace laughed and followed Marco out of the room, their fingers intertwined.

“Have you eaten yet?” Marco asked.

“Yeah, Izo took me to the kitchen.”

Marco nodded, pleased. He showed Ace around the castle, pointing out the different rooms and their functions. Soon enough, though, they bumped into Thatch and Izo.

“We haven’t been formally introduced,” Thatch said to Ace, holding out his hand. “I’m Thatch.”

Ace hesitated, finally giving Thatch his free hand. “Ace.”

“Ha, I _knew_ it!” Izo declared triumphantly, pointing at their joined hands. “I _knew_ Marco was sneaking of to visit someone!”

“I put your horse in the stables,” Thatch said to Ace, ignoring Izo. “She’s well fed and watered, so no need to worry.”

“Thank you. I should-”

“So, how did you two meet?” Izo interrupted Ace rudely. “It’s not every day Marco brings home a handsome stranger. Well, that a handsome stranger barges into the throne room, demanding to see Marco.”

Ace looked pleadingly at Marco, who was at loss what to say. He didn’t want to tell Izo anything Ace didn’t want him to know.

“Well?” Izo demanded, tapping his foot impatiently.

Sometimes, Thatch was surprisingly sharp, though, and currently, he seemed to read the situation well. “We should leave you to it,” he said, saving them. He started to drag Izo away. “See you later!”

“No, wait, I need _details_!” Izo exclaimed as struggled against Thatch’s hold in vain.

Marco chuckled, but when he looked at Ace, his face fell. It was clear what he was thinking. He wasn’t of noble blood after all, and it was easy to think that people would turn up their noses when they found out he was a thief. And that would be the good scenario.

Trying to reassure him, Marco squeezed Ace’s hand. “I promise you, they won’t care who you are or where you come from. Most people here come from humble backgrounds. P- Edward just doesn’t care about who your parents are. But if you want to tell them is up to you. They won’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you,” Ace said.

“And you should ignore Izo. He always sticks his nose in other people’s business.” When Ace still didn’t seem put at ease, Marco continued, “Come on, I’ll show you the gardens.”

That cheered Ace up, and he looked excited.

It was still winter, but the gardens were showing the first signs of spring. A few flowers were already sprouting up, and trees were showing buds that would turn into leaves.

Ace had become silent, staring at the place in awe. “It’s gorgeous,” he whispered.

“You should see it in summer,” Marco said. When Ace looked at him, he continued, “I’m serious. You should come back in summer.”

A careful smile appeared in Ace’s face. “Maybe I will.”

It was a vague promise, but it still made Marco happy, as Ace showed signs that he liked it here. Or at least he liked Marco enough to put up with the rest. Marco was okay with that. Ace would come to love his family as much as Marco did eventually.

Speaking of family... Marco smacked against his forehead. “I should really go see the king,” he said apologetically to Ace. “I thought I was going to take a bath first, but that turned out not like planned. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. Go. I’ll be fine here,” Ace said.

“Will you stay for dinner tonight?” Marco asked. When Ace seemed to hesitate, Marco continued, “Think about it.” He kissed Ace’s knuckles and hastened himself towards the king’s quarters.

The guards immediately let him through, but Marco still knocked and waited for a reply before entering.

Edward was studying a map that was rolled out on the table in the middle of the room. He looked up when Marco entered and closed the doors behind him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Marco said.

“That’s okay. After what Izo told me, I wasn’t surprised your bath took longer than normal.” The King’s eyes shone playfully.

Marco let out a snort. “You’re spending too much time with Izo. But I showed Ace around the castle and kind of lost track of time.” He scratched the back of his head.

“It’s nice that he came for you.”

Marco couldn’t help the grin creeping up his face. “Yeah, it was a nice surprise. I really hadn’t expected to see him again.”

“Maybe you should give him more credit.”

“Pops, he hates knights.”

“He seems to like you.”

Marco really couldn’t argue with that, because if he had doubts about Ace’s feelings before, those had disappeared by now. After all, Ace wouldn’t risk going to the castle if he wasn’t serious about Marco.

“Still,” he said, “he’s embarrassed for being a thief. He doesn’t want anyone to know, so don’t tell him you do.”

“You should.”

“I know, I will.” Marco sighed.

Edward seemed to sense his mood, because he slammed down an enormous hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Well, let’s get this meeting over with, so you can get back to Ace.”

* * *

Ace had been exploring the garden when Marco joined him again. The flora around him was beautiful and well maintained, but it reminded him of where he was. Definitely not in the forest where everything grew in disorder. He wasn’t used to  neatly arranged plants, and he wondered if he belonged there. Marco’s world and his were entirely different. They had very little in common. It didn’t make him like Marco less, but he did wonder if it would last.

“There you are,” Marco said. He was smiling, but his happy expression disappeared when Ace didn’t smile back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...” Ace looked away, wrapping his arms around him. “I just can’t help but wonder why you even like me.”

“What’s not to like?”

“Are you kidding me?!” Ace whipped around to face Marco. “I’m a thief! Nothing but lowly scum that hides in the bushes! I... You deserve someone better, like a prince or something.”

“I doubt I could get a prince.” Marco took a step towards him, but didn’t touch Ace. “And even if I could, I don’t want to. I don’t care that you’re a thief, or about who your parents might have been. I only care about you.”

Ace bit his lip to stop it from trembling and threw his arms around Marco’s neck. Marco wrapped his arms around Ace, holding him tightly and kissing his hair.

When Ace finally let him go, Marco asked, “So do you want to work on your sword fighting skills? Or do you want to go home.”

A smile appeared on Ace’s face. “I believe you invited me to dinner.”

* * *

Before dinner, they killed some time by practicing Ace’s swordfighting, though there was more touching involved than strictly necessary. Ace seemed happy enough being just with Marco, but when it was announced that the food was being served, he turned quiet.

“We can eat by ourselves, if you want,” Marco said as they entered the castle.

Ace shook his head. “You don’t have to adjust for me.”

“I want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m fine.”

While he knew that Ace was far from fine, Marco didn’t press and led Ace to the dining room. Most of the knights that were home were already present, and everyone suddenly turned to the door when they entered, becoming quiet. Ace looked ready to flee, so Marco squeezed his hand reassuringly.

The silence only lasted for a second, though, before everyone turned back to their conversations. Well, everyone but Izo, who seemed like he was about to explode from curiosity about Ace. Marco had no intention in indulging him, though, and ushered Ace to the seat next to his at the large round table in the middle of the room, which happened to be empty. Jozu, who usually sat next to him, shot him a meaningful grin.

“Why is your table round?” Ace whispered as they sat down. “Shouldn’t the king be at the head of the table?”

“Because we’re equal,” Marco replied. “Well, the king has a bigger chair, but let’s be honest, he needs it.” He nodded towards the large, empty chair next to him, in which Edward would sit once he arrived.

Ace let out a snort, and Marco was glad to see him relax a little.

Dinner went smoothly, or as smoothly as possible. The other knights at the table tried to include Ace in the conversation, with various degrees of success, and Izo managed to keep his questions to himself.

Ace had been trying to hold himself back once the food arrived, but Marco saw his eyes shine when he saw the amount of meat.

After dinner, Marco would usually join the other knights and ladies for some wine by the fire, but this time he decided to keep Ace company.

Outside, it had become dark and it had started to rain, and Marco managed to convince Ace to stay the night. He had servants set up a guest room in the vicinity of his own room, in case Ace needed something during the night and didn’t feel like calling a servant.

As he wished Ace goodnight at the door of the room, he said, “Ace, there is something I need to tell you.” When Ace looked at him curiously, he combed with a hand through his hair and said, “Pops– Edward kind of knows about you. Who you are, I mean.”

Ace’s eyes widened, and Marco hastened himself to reassure him. “He doesn’t mind. I didn’t tell him today, but right after I met you. Because I already liked you back then.” Ace smiled a little and let Marco caress his face. “No one else knows or will find out unless it’s from you, okay?”

Ace nodded. “Thank you.” He kissed Marco. “Good night.”

* * *

The bed was softer than anything he had ever slept in, yet Ace had trouble falling asleep. He couldn’t find a good position to lie in, and after a few hours of turning, he got up.

The hall was abandoned and only lit by the candle Ace carried. He snuck out of the room, closing the door behind him. Marco had shown him where he slept, and silently, Ace opened the door.

The curtains of Marco’s four-poster bed were open, and Ace could see a figure under the blanket. He placed the candlestand on the table next to the bed, when Marco suddenly turned around, blinking against the light.

“Ace?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ace whispered. “Can I join you?”

“Sure, but...” Marco hesitated for a second. “I’m naked.”

“So? You really have an obsession with pointing out when people are naked.”

“I suppose I do.” Marco lifted up the blanket, and Ace crawled next to him. “Is something wrong with your bed?”

“Nah,” Ace replied. “It’s the most comfortable bed I ever slept in, but... I guess I’m just not used to it.”

Marco wrapped an arm around Ace, pulling him close. “Don’t worry, you will,” he muttered, before his breathing became even again.

* * *

When Marco woke up, Ace was no longer lying next to him, but a quick scan of the room showed him that Ace was sitting in the windowsill, looking outside.

Marco rolled out of bed and putting on his hose, he walked over to the window, kissing Ace on his head. “Hey. Did you sleep at all?”

“Morning. And yeah, I did. A few hours.” Ace turned back to the view, leaning back against Marco. “Marco?” he asked.

Marco hummed to indicate that he was listening, wrapping his arms around Ace.

“Last night, you said I’ll get used to the bed, which implies that I’ll sleep here often.” Ace turned around, looking at Marco. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Of course I do,” Marco replied, sitting down next to Ace. “This is my home, my family, and I want you to be a part of that.”

Ace wrapped his arms around his knees. “I’m no knight. I’m no noble either. And I know you said the king doesn’t mind, I don’t think I belong in a castle.”

“Look,” Marco said, pulling Ace close. “I’m not asking you to decide right now. Or to say that you’ll stay forever. You’re free to go. But that also means you’re free to come back. And I, for one, would very much like it if you stopped by every once in a while. But the decision is yours, of course.”


	6. Chapter 5

Several weeks passed, and Benn seemed to heal very well, at least insofar Shanks could tell. The wounds were harder to hide now that Shanks saw Benn topless more often, though.

Shanks knew people were surprised how long his relationship with Benn lasted, especially the Queen. They did have a point. Usually, Shanks bounced from one lover to the next, but Benn made him feel content with what he had.

In addition, Shanks wanted to use the time he had to the fullest. After all, Benn would soon return to his own lands, and Shanks wasn’t sure what he would do himself. While he liked Benn, he didn’t want to abandon Rouge, and Benn lived too far away to stop by often.

Shanks hoped that with time, his dilemma would resolve itself, but no such thing happened. In fact, it only became worse, as he started to like Benn more and more as they spent more time together.

By the time Rouge would travel to Edward’s kingdom to take over Benn’s lands from him, Shanks still hadn’t figured out his problem. Fortunately for him, the transfer of the lands would take place after a tournament Edward happened to host, which would provide some distraction for Shanks.

Accompanied by her best knights, with the exception of Rayleigh who stayed behind to oversee the queen’s duties while she was gone, and her servants, amongst them Makino, Rouge headed for Moby Dick. Shanks rode next to her, cheerfully babbling and trying not to show his worries. He wondered if Benn saw through him, and if he thought about the same thing.

They received a warm welcome when they arrived at Edward’s castle. With so many knights, dukes, counts, lords and ladies gathered, there was no room in the castle itself, so they put up camp nearby.

Shanks had hoped to see Buggy, who was always easy to spot, but he didn’t seem to be present, unfortunately. Shanks really had to thank him for introducing him to Benn.

That evening, Shanks snuck into Benn’s tent – though sneaking was probably not the best word considering several people saw him. Benn was lying on his back on a mattress, scooting over to make room for Shanks. He continued to stare at the ceiling, one hand underneath his head.

“So what are we going to do after?” Shanks asked. He didn’t bother explaining after what, as he knew that Benn knew what he was talking about.

“After the tournament, I am going home, and so are you,” Benn replied, his voice monotonous. “We knew that this was temporary, and I’d never ask you to leave your lady.”

Shanks hummed, straddling Benn. “Then we’d better enjoy the time we have to the fullest.”

* * *

“Are you nervous for the tournament?” Ace asked. He was sitting on Marco’s bed as Marco was putting on his boots.

In the past few weeks, he had hardly left the castle. He had only gone back to the forest to tell Dadan he would be away for a while, though he didn’t tell her where he went. He also had to bring back the horse to the monastery, where he did tell Sabo and Koala where he was and had to suffer through their merciless teasing.

The first few days Ace spent at the castle, he had mostly kept to himself or spent time with Marco, but he soon enough found out that the other inhabitants were hard to dislike, especially Thatch. He had already joined in in a few pranks he and a few others pulled.

In all, Ace liked it at the castle. He liked Marco, he liked the food, and he was even starting to like the knights. The little boy inside him was very excited about the tournament. He wouldn’t join in himself, of course, because he wasn’t a knight, and even if he was, he wasn’t nearly good enough. But he was excited to watch, especially watch Marco. He had never seen him all out before, though he had heard many stories.

“I don’t have much reason to be nervous,” Marco replied. “I’ll try not to land on my ass too soon, to impress you, of course, but other than that, it’s a game. Though it’ll be fun to see Shanks again. I haven’t jousted with him in a while.”

Hearing that name, Ace looked up. “Shanks? He’s here?”

“Yeah. Why, do you know him?”

Ace looked away. “I met him, a while back. He’s close with Luffy, apparently. But when we met.. I don’t know, he just looked at me weird.”

“Weird how?” Marco asked. There was something threatening in his voice, like he would stab Shanks if he didn’t like the answer.

Ace let out a snort. “Not like he wanted to do to me what you did last night, if that’s what you’re asking. But.. It was just weird. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Marco took his hand and kissed it. “Well, let me know if he does it again. Come on, we’ll be late.” He rose and made for the door.

“Marco?”

He turned around.

Ace fidgeted with the blanket. “It does mean he knows about me. Or at least has a hunch. I did threaten to rob him blind once.”

Marco let out a snort. “That’s how your relationship starts with just about anyone, isn’t it?” When Ace pouted, Marco pulled him close. “There is no reason to fear anything from Shanks. He’s doesn’t have a noble bloodline either, so he’ll be the last to judge. And that is assuming he even remembers or sees you.”

Relieved, Ace nodded. Marco did have a point.  He and Shanks only briefly met and Shanks wouldn’t expect him to see him here anyway.

* * *

Shanks rode next to Rouge so that their horses could warm up for the tournament. The encampment was bigger than Shanks had thought, though it wasn’t that much of a surprise, considering Edward had a lot of allies. It was mostly them who were present, as allies of the emperor wouldn’t dare to show their face. Not that they would harm such a person, unless they harmed them, but the emperor himself wouldn’t respond kindly to that, even if the tournament was just a game.

Shanks had expected to see Marco at some point, so when he spotted him in the distance, he was about to call over to him, when he noticed a figure next to Marco, whom he recognised instantly.

“Look!” he called, pointing at Ace, when he suddenly remembered that he could hardly say to the queen, “Look at that kid, couldn’t he be your son?”

“What am I looking at?” Rouge asked, stopping her horse, as she followed Shanks’ pointing finger.

“Over there!” Shanks said. “Isn’t it lovely?” Hopefully, she would think he was talking about the morning sky – which was pretty – or that he was just being weird.

“Ah, yes,” Rouge said slowly. “I see. Well, come on. You don’t want to be late for your first joust, now do you?”

* * *

Marco had explained the tournament to Ace a little. Basically, there would be five jousts simultaneously, and after the first round, the winners would battle each other, until only one champion was left. The lords and ladies who didn’t participate had divided themselves over the battle fields, though there were a lot of ordinary people present as well.

Ace just followed Marco, watching as Edward’s knights jousted against others and each other. One jousting match had one, two, or three rounds depending on how long it took for one knight to lift the other from the saddle with his lance. Usually, it only took one or two rounds for someone to win.

Ace had hoped to see Luffy around, as he was never able to resist a good fight, but either he hadn’t heard about the tournament or he was otherwise occupied. It was too bad, though. Ace missed his little brother.

The jousts were fun to watch, though Ace was happy he didn’t have to participate. Armour or no, having a lance jammed into your chest didn’t look pleasant, nor did falling off a horse. Looking at Marco joust was amazing, however. He looked like a real knight in shining armour as he lifted his opponents from the saddle without breaking a sweat.

He was just waiting for Marco’s next joust when a shadow loomed over him. Looking up, he saw Edward, who sat down next to him on the bench that creaked dangerously.

“Enjoying the tournament, son?” he asked.

Ace had long gotten used to Edward calling him son. He didn’t mind. Some part of him even liked it. He had never known a father figure, other than Gramps, and Edward had never hit him. He had secretly started to call Edward Pops, like the other knights and ladies did, but never out loud.

“Yeah, Marco’s been doing really well.” He looked at Edward. “Who’s up against him next?”

Edward smiled mysteriously. “Just watch.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the herald announced, and it became quiet. “Up next is Marco the Phoenix. He will be facing the fierce Rouge the Great!”

The crowd cheered, and Ace leaned in curiously. It seemed that Rouge was the only royalty participating in the tournaments. Her golden armour glistened in the sunlight, and Ace had trouble looking at her directly.

This joust would decide which one of them would move on to the finals. Ace could barely contain his excitement and bounced up and down on the bench he was sitting on.

The herald waved the flag and the joust began. Both participants lowered their lances and spurred on their horses. Ace let out a gasp when Marco’s lance slit off Rouge’s armour while she hit him head on, but he managed to remain seated.

At the end of the field, they turned around their horses and waited for the signal for the second round. When the flag was waved again, they rode again towards each other.

Rouge’s lance hit Marco’s again, but it splintered on impact. Marco hit her right in the chest, lifting her out of the saddle.

The crowd roared, just like Ace, as Marco dismounted to help Rouge to her feet.

* * *

Shanks was waiting his turn at the side of the jousting field. He shook his head when he saw his queen hit the ground rather unelegantly, but deep down he was happy he didn’t have to joust her.

A page took the reins of Rouge’s horse as she took off her helmet and left the jousting field. As she passed Shanks, she said, “Do me a favour. Beat him for me. For Roger’s sake, I can’t have Edward’s knights best mine.”

Shanks grinned. “As you wish, my lady.”

* * *

“This should be interesting,” Edward said, sounding pleased.

Ace looked at him. “Should it?” He knew Marco was an amazing knight, and Shanks had to be pretty good to reach the finals, but would he be nearly as good as Marco? Then again, Luffy looked up to Shanks, so he had to be at least a little impressive.

“Do you know anything about Raftel?” Edward suddenly asked.

Ace shrugged. “It’s a kingdom, right?” That was all he really know.

Edward nodded. “As you may know, the emperor controls most of the known world, but not everyone agrees with that. Several small dukedoms and counties revolt, but to the Emperor, those are like flies circling your head. Irritating, but harmless. However, he has much more to fear from some kingdoms.”

“Like Moby Dick,” Ace said. Marco had told him all about Moby Dick and Edward’s status as rebel king.

Edward nodded. “Like Moby Dick. And like Raftel. Roger, Raftel’s king, was known as Roger the Rebel. Rouge, his wife, is just as bad. She was engaged to the son of one of the emperor’s most loyal followers, but decided to marry Roger instead.”

“I thought Shanks said that his lord is dead.”

Edward nodded solemnly. “He died twenty years ago of an illness. Rouge took over as queen then.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ace asked.

“Shanks was Roger’s protégé, and loyal to death to Rouge. He is her best knight and, considering he reached the finals, among the best two knights here.”

Ace nodded slowly, turning back to the jousting field. He still wasn’t sure what the point was of the story, aside that Shanks was a good knight. Perhaps Edward had just felt like sharing. 

“He’s famous for his loyalty and strength,” Edward added, as in afterthought.

“There is nothing wrong with his stamina either,” a voice suddenly said.

When Ace looked aside, he saw a knight clad in all black. His hair was greying and tied back in a ponytail. His face was scarred and rough, but not unpleasant to look at. Ace had seen him in a joust where he had won against a man named Spider. He had to have lost at some point, though.

Edward burst into laughter. “I’m not surprised that you know that.”

Ace moved over on the bench so that the knight could sit next to him.

The herald announced the knights in the joust, and the crowd went crazy. They were both pretty famous after all.

Shanks and Marco stood ready at the opposite ends of the fields, their lances pointing to the sky. When the herald gave the signal, they shut their visors and spurred on their horses. In the middle, their weapons collided with their opponent, and both were lifted from the saddle.

The crowd roared when the knights returned to their starting positions, pages calming down the horses and handing the knights their lances.

One more, the signal was given and they charged again. This time, Shanks’ lance slipped from Marco’s armour, while Marco’s weapon splintered upon impact.

For the third time, they spurred on their horses. Ace could practically hear the crowd holding their breaths. When the lances collided with armour, for the second time, both of them fell from their saddles and hot the ground. However, as this was the decisive round, they drew their swords and charged at each other. Sparks flew everywhere when the weapons met.

Ace’s eyes were glued to the spectacle. He had fought Marco before, but Marco had never gone all out like he seemed to do now.

However, as mesmerising as it was to watch the fight at first, after a few hours without a winner, it started to get a little dull. The crowd didn’t cheer as hard anymore and actually started to slink away. There were moments when either Shanks or Marco seemed to have the upper hand, prompting people to run back to watch, but then the fight evened out again, and they gave up.

Ace was starting to doze off when Edward suddenly rose, the bench nearly tipping over with the loss of weight.

“Alright, boys.” Edwards voice boomed across the field. Shanks and Marco stopped fighting lifting up their visors to look at the king.

“How about we call it a draw?”

A few people in the audience who had energy left, cheered.

Shanks and Marco looked at each other, shrugging. Then Shanks held out his arm, which Marco clasped. Shanks seemed to say something, causing Marco to tense a little, before he replied. The smirk on Shanks’ face only grew.

* * *

Marco was a little more drunk than he was willing to admit when he dragged Ace away from the feast that was held after the tournament, but in all fairness, Ace was hardly sober either. He followed Marco with an enormous grin on his face, no doubt ideas about what they would do.

However, Marco did not feel like going all the way to his room. As soon as they were alone, he pushed Ace against the wall, kissing him senseless.

Ace groaned, his hands clawing at Marco’s body. He tilted his head, allowing Marco access to his neck, an offer Marco wasn’t going to turn down.

The sound of footsteps made him freeze, and he hastily turned around, feeling absolutely mortified when he saw Queen Rouge standing in the hallway. In vain trying to fix his no doubt ruffled look, he asked, “W-what are you doing here, my lady? Are you lost?”

“I suppose I am,” she replied, but her eyes were aimed at Ace, not Marco. Ace tried to hide behind Marco’s back.

“Allow me to accompany you back to the great hall,” Marco said, offering her his arm. The shock had sobered him up good, and as he guided Rouge away, he shot an apologetic look at Ace.

* * *

Shanks looked around the room in search for his queen. He had seen Rouge leave the hall a while back, perhaps to powder her nose, but he hadn’t seen her return. He was surprised to see her come in holding onto Marco’s arm, though, as he had seen Marco and Ace leave barely able to keep their hands off each other, so there was no doubt in his mind what they had been intending to do. It made him grin to think about Rouge catching them in the act – Marco did look a little ruffled – which was especially funny if Ace was indeed Rouge’s son. For Shanks, anyway.

As soon as they had entered the hall, Marco bowed to Rouge and left immediately, probably to go back to Ace and finish what they started. Rouge looked around the room and when she saw Shanks, she walked up to him purposefully.

“Dance with me,” she demanded.

“Your wish is my com- Whoa!” Shanks wasn’t able to finish his sentence when she pulled him along. To the tunes played by the flutes and lutes of the orchestra, Shanks took the queen’s hands. She was silent, but Shanks sensed there was much she wanted to say or ask.

“Are you cross with me for not winning the tournament?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she replied. “Granted, I’d have preferred if you’d won, but at least you didn’t lose from Marco. I wouldn’t have been able to handle Edward’s smugness.”

Shanks smirked and twirled her around. “Then, if I may be so bold to ask, what is on your mind, my Queen?”

She remained silent for a moment, and Shanks didn’t press. Finally, Rouge said, “This morning, when we were out riding, you didn’t want me to look at the horizon, did you?”

“The sky was very pretty,” Shanks replied.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Shanks heaved a sigh. Despite having consumed an impressive amount of wine, Rouge was sharp as always. “I did not.”

“You wanted me to look at Ace, didn’t you? Why?” she demanded, her voice ice cold. Nevertheless, they never stopped dancing.

He hesitated. “It’s unusual to see Marco with somebody.”

“They were only walking together,” Rouge countered. “Nothing indicated that they were together. Sure, I know now that they in fact,” she cleared her throat, and Shanks was delighted to see her cheeks tinted red, “are, but you couldn’t have known that back then. So I ask you one more time: why did you want me to look at Ace?”

Shanks considered his options. He could suggest that Ace was cute, but that would imply he was interested in him, and if Rouge thought what he thought she thought, she might not appreciate the implication.

“My lady, I’m very drunk right now,” he finally sighed.

“That’s why I’m asking now. You’re a horrible liar, Shanks, especially when you’re drunk. Now please, tell me.” Her commanding air had disappeared and she looked at him pleading.

He had never been able to refuse her.

“I met him before,” he admitted, “a few weeks ago when I was travelling.”

“What did you think when you first saw him?” Rouge’s voice was barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath and sighed. “I thought, ‘that’s what a child of Roger and Rouge would look like.’”

Pressing her lips together, Rouge took a shaky breath, her eyes becoming moist. “Where did you find him?”

“He was living in a forest not far from here. Or at least, that’s where I met him. Actually, it turns out Luffy is his brother.”

“Brother?” Rouge asked, confused.

“Not actual brother, of course,” Shanks explained. “If that was the case I would be really wrong, or you’d have to have forgotten to mention something. No, they’re sworn bothers. There is actually a third. A monk called Sabo.

“I’ve heard those names from Luffy before, but he never described Ace to me. Even if he had, I wouldn’t have known what he looked like exactly. Not until I saw him.” Shanks sighed again.

“What is he like?” Rouge whispered.

“Very unpleasant.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Is that so?”

“He didn’t seem to like knights much. Obviously, he has come around.” Shanks wasn’t sure if he should remind Rouge of what she had seen, in light of the new information, but he had blurted it out before he could stop himself.

“He has indeed,” Rouge muttered.

“He likes Luffy, though,” Shanks hastily continued. “He is very protective of him. It’s rather sweet.”

Rouge’s lips curled into a smile. “What else to you know about him? Anything about his parents?”

Shanks hesitated a moment before replying. “There is a lot of resentment there, my lady. He thinks he is either an orphan or abandoned by his parents, and he resents them for it.”

Her face fell, and Shanks wanted to kick himself for making her sad. He really was too honest when he was drunk. Blunt was a better word for it.

Fortunately, she recovered quickly, like she always did. Rouge was the most resilient person Shanks had ever known. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“My lady...” He waited a moment before continuing. “It is not a coincidence that I always leave around New Year’s. I don’t expect that you actually for a moment thought that. You become depressed around that time – and who can blame you? – and there is a lot of tension in the air. I can’t take that. That’s why I left the first time. But during my travels I found a boy of whom I thought he could be your son, so I took him with me. Fortunately, Rayleigh met with me first and made take back the child.”

Her eyes darkened when she heard Rayleigh’s name. No doubt she felt betrayed by her closest advisor and friend.

“Don’t be mad at him, my Queen,” Shanks hastily said. “He was only looking out for you. He didn’t want to give you false hope. Over the years, I have thought many times that I found the missing prince, and I’ve been wrong each time. Rayleigh saved you a lot of heartache.

“In the past few years, I’ve stopped looking actively, though still keeping an eye out. But when I met Ace, there was an undeniable resemblance. He has spirit, like someone else I know.”

She smiled faintly. Placing her head against his shoulder, she said, “I thought I was the only one who believed he was still alive.”

“I’ve had my doubts, my lady, but I always knew something about the story didn’t make sense.”

“I wish you told me that.” She straightened again, looking over her shoulder as if looking for Ace. “Do you really think he might be Roger? That he might be my son?”

“Like I said, my lady, I’ve been wrong a lot.”

“What does your instinct say?”

“It says that it will be hard to find someone who looks more like you and my lord.”

She smiled, sighing deeply as she placed her head against his shoulder once more. “I must know more about him. Either confirm or disprove this feeling.”

He could practically feel her heart beating.

“Hope is so frail,” Rouge whispered. “I’m afraid I will be disappointed, and yet... I can’t help hoping that he is indeed my son.”

“I think you shouldn’t underestimate a mother’s instinct.”

She looked up, smiling as she straightened. “Perhaps not. But I’ve taken enough of your time.” She glanced over his shoulder. “I think there is someone else who wishes to dance with you.”

* * *

The sun was still low in the sky and had not yet had the time to chase away the morning mist, when Shanks found himself outside, a pounding headache behind his eyes and blearily blinking against the light. Benn was standing across from him, silently, preparing himself mentally for the goodbye no doubt.

“Well,” Shanks finally said, “here we are.”

Benn nodded solemnly. “Since Edward transferred my lands to Rouge, there is no reason for me to delay any longer. Besides, the delegation with food and building materials that left a few days after us should arrive soon.”

“Then nothing remains to be said than to say, ride hard,” Shanks said.

A smirk crept up Benn’s face. “That’s what you said last night.”

Shanks mirrored his expression for a moment, but then said, “Well, bye.”

Turning to leave, he prayed that Benn would leave it at that. He hated goodbyes, had never been good with them, even if this one might not be forever. Every day away from Benn would be too long. If he looked around one more time, he would break, so Benn should leave it as it was. A clean goodbye with no emotions. No tears.

So why did Benn have to grab his hand, pull him towards him and kiss him one last time? Shanks felt his body shake as he returned the kiss.

Finally, yet too soon, Benn let go of him. He said nothing as he mounted his horse and only looked back once as he spurred on the animal.

Shanks placed his hands on his knees, his mind spinning. Benn had made the goodbye more complicated than it should have been, and Shanks hated him for it. Even if he would have longed for one last kiss the rest of his life. He still would.

“You’re just going to let him go?”

Shanks took a few deep breaths to pull himself together, before he turned towards Ace. “He has to go back to his lands. His people depend on him.”

“And you can’t go with him?”

“My place is at the queen’s side.”

“Because you want to or because you have to?” Ace asked defiantly.

He didn’t respond.

“You know, things like this make me glad I’m not a noble,” Ace said.

Shanks felt a pang of something – guilt, regret? – but at least he had Ace talking. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because it takes away your freedom, that’s why. You want to go with Benn, but you can’t, and he can’t stay. Me, on the other hand, I could choose to go with Marco or stay where I was.”

“And you chose to come here. I happen to recall a guy, very similar to you, who hated knights,” Shanks teased. “A guy like that would never fall for a knight, would he?”

He was pleased to see Ace fluster a little.

“It’s not like I planned it,” he muttered.

“So you’re not free, after all.” Shanks hadn’t meant to sound so triumphant.

“Like I said, I was free to choose what to do with it.”

“So, you wouldn’t want to be a nobleman?” Shanks asked.

“Not if it meant I couldn’t be with Marco.”

The pang returned, and Shanks couldn’t help but wonder if it would be selfish of them to tell Ace who he was, if he was in fact the prince. He would be heir to the throne, taking away his freedom. Not to mention that Edward was technically their rival, thus Marco as well.

“Well, aren’t you more pleasant than last time,” he said, faking cheerfulness. “It seems they finally rammed some manners into you.”

Ace scowled at him. “You don’t have to be an ass.”

“Likewise,” Shanks continued on the same tone.

Ace huffed. “Whatever. I’m gonna go see Marco.”

“Careful the queen doesn’t catch you again!” Shanks called after him, grinning when he saw Ace stiffen. However, now that he found himself alone, realisation that Benn was really gone hit him hard. It was now that he remembered why he didn’t get attached. While he had known the whole time that Benn would leave sooner or later, he hadn’t been prepared for this.

Shaking these thoughts, Shanks decided he couldn’t let this get him down. He was better than that, stronger than that. He had chosen to remain by Rouge’s side, so he would. He should focus on her wishes. Well, hers and her son’s.

Shanks turned his back to the direction in which Benn had disappeared and headed towards the encampment. Rouge was an early riser, unlike Roger had been, so he wasn’t surprised to find her up and about.

He put on a cheerful face, but she knew him too well and saw right through him. Without saying a word, which he was grateful for, she took his face between her hands and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

Feeling himself crumble, Shanks stepped back, taking her hand and kissing it. “Good morning, my Queen.”

The sadness – never pity – disappeared from her eyes and, respecting his wish not to talk about it, she smiled. “Good morning, Sir Shanks.”

“My lady...” He hesitated for a second, but when she urged him to speak his mind, he said, “I just spoke with Ace.”

“You did?”

“He said...” Shanks sighed. “He fears that being a nobleman takes away your freedom. My lady, even if he is your son, wouldn’t it be cruel to take that away from him, his freedom, his life, to make him your heir?”

Her eyes turned dark, and he knew he had said something wrong. “Do you think I am that cruel? That I’d take the happiness of my son away for my own gain? That I’m that desperate for an heir?” She sighed and her eyes softened. “I may be a queen, but first and foremost, I’m a mother. If Ace is my son, I want to know. Not to have an heir, but to have a son.”

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled gently. “I appreciate that you worry about him and that you’d rather see him happy with our rival than to assure the bloodline of Raftel. I wish he would have grown up with me, not in the least because he would have had you as a role model.”

He bowed his head in thanks, though on the inside, he beamed with pride. “How do you plan to find out if he is indeed your son?” he then asked.

“I am not sure yet,” she replied thoughtfully. “First, I need to find out more about him.”

* * *

Marco was lying on his back on the grass, Ace using his stomach as a pillow, enjoying the spring sun. After the efforts of the tournament, it was nice to relax and have some peace and quiet around him. Most of their visitors had left the day before, still recovering from the feast of the previous evening. As seneschal, Marco had to see everyone off and see to that they had everything they needed.

Only Queen Rouge and her people were still here, having stayed a little longer to negotiate the terms of transfer of Lord Benn’s lands. Marco hadn’t been present when the lands came under their command, temporarily, until Benn had become Rouge’s man. It had been an odd deal, but Marco wasn’t surprised that Pops had taken it, nor had he any objections. While Rouge was technically their rival, they wouldn’t start a war against each other, because that would make them weak against their common enemy, the emperor. So it didn’t matter that Rouge had gained a little more land, because Lord Benn’s lands were nothing impressive.

For now, though, he could leave politics behind him and just enjoy his time with Ace. Or so he thought.

Gravel crunched as someone approached. With a sigh, Marco opened his eyes, shielding them against the sun with his hand.

“Hello there,” Shanks said, the everlasting grin present on his face.

Marco popped himself up on his elbows. “Yes?”

“Coming right to the point. I always liked that about you,” Shanks said, the grin spreading even further, if possible. “Anyway, the queen wants to talk to your manservant.”

“Ace is not a servant,” Marco snapped while Ace turned around to look at Shanks as well.

“Fine, she wants to talk to your _man_ then.”

Marco had a feeling he walked right into that one, judging from the smug look on Shanks’ face. He decided to ignore it. “Why?”

Shanks shrugged. “I’m just the messenger.”

Somehow, Marco had the feeling he knew more than he let on.

Ace looked at Marco. “What should I do?”

“That’s up to you,” he replied. “But it’s not considered polite to refuse a queen anything. Besides, there is only one way to find out what she wants.” He glanced at Shanks, who looked like innocence itself.

“Can’t you come?”

Marco looked at Shanks, who shrugged.

“She just wants Ace.”

Marco took Ace’s hand and kissed it. “I’ll wait for you here.”

Ace nodded slowly. “Alright. Then I’ll be right back, I guess.” He kissed Marco, ignoring Shanks’ whooping sounds, before standing up.

Marco looked after him as he walked away with Shanks and sighed. Well, at least there was still peace and quiet.

* * *

“I’m sorry about what I said this morning,” Ace said after they walked in silence for a while. “I know I haven’t been exactly pleasant to you, and you just had a painful goodbye.”

Shanks shrugged, placing his hands on the back of his head. “What’s done is done.”

Deciding to change the subject, Ace asked, “So you really don’t know why the queen wishes to see me?” He flustered a little. “I know she caught me and Marco in a bit of a compromising position, but we didn’t mean for anyone to see, much less to offend her.”

Shanks snickered, but at least he had the decency to cough to cover it up. “I’m pretty sure it’s not about that.”

“What then?”

“She’ll tell you.”

Resigning to the fact that Shanks wasn’t going to tell him more, whether he knew or not, Ace just followed him to the encampment of Raftel. Most of the tents had been broken down, as the people were making ready to head home. Only the queen’s tent was left, bigger and prettier than the other’s had been. Ace remembered seeing it during the tournament. Rouge’s coat of arms, a hibiscus flower, was painted on the side.

Shanks asked him to wait as he headed inside. Ace could hear the queen’s voice, but not make out what she said. Then Shanks’ head appeared again through the tent flap.

“You can come in now.” He disappeared again.

Hesitantly, Ace followed him inside. The queen was sitting in the middle of the tent on a chair, a table on which a carafe was standing beside her. There was a woman behind her, her bottom lip trembling when Ace came in, and she covered her face with her hands.

Shanks bowed, and Ace followed his example.

“Your Highness,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound hopelessly lost.

“Majesty,” Shanks coughed.

“Majesty,” he hastily corrected himself.

The queen just smiled and gestured him to sit in the empty chair beside her. Then she turned to Shanks. “Thank you. You may go. Makino, you too.”

Shanks bowed and left the tent, but not before casting a strange look at Ace. The woman, Makino, apparently, made a curtsey for the queen and followed Shanks out. She shot a similar look at Ace as Shanks had.

A silence fell inside the tent, and Ace fidgeted in his chair.

The queen smiled at him. “Would you like some wine?”

He swallowed, noticing his dry throat, and nodded. She took the carafe and poured the wine in two goblets that stood ready. Only then Ace realised he probably should have offered to do it for her. She was a queen after all, so she shouldn’t do things like that herself, right?

She handed him a goblet, and he gulped it down. The queen kept looking at him, though, so he stopped drinking and put down the cup embarrassed.

“Are you nervous?” she asked.

“Should I be? Your Majesty,” he hastily added. “I don’t know why you called me here. If it’s because of what you saw at the feast-”

“It has nothing to do with that,” she interrupted him. “I just want to chat.”

“Chat?” he asked.

She nodded.

“With me?”

Again, she nodded.

“Why? Your Majesty.”

“You seem interesting, so I’d like to get to know you,” she said.

“Why?” he repeated.

She smiled softly. “You remind me of someone.”

“Shanks said the same thing,” Ace said with a snort.

“Did he now?”

“Well, yeah. When we first met a few months ago. I think he said I reminded him of his lord. Your husband, I suppose. Late husband. I’m sorry,” he rambled, taking another sip of wine just to shut himself up.

Her smile never wavered. “My husband died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, not knowing what else to say.

“Shanks told me that you met in a forest not far from here,” Rouge said. “Is that true?”

“Yes, madam.”

“Do you live around there?”

“I do,” Ace said. “Or I did. I’m not sure how permanent my current living arrangement will be. Living here, I mean.” He took a short pause to stop himself from rambling. “But I grew up there,” he concluded.

“With your parents?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know who my parents are. They’re dead, or not. I don’t know, nor do I care.”

There was a flicker of something in her eyes, and Ace thought it was sadness, but it disappeared as soon as it had appeared. Her face became a mask once more, a friendly mask, but an unreadable one nonetheless.

“But someone must have raised you,” she said.

“ Dadan did,” Ace said, leaving out she was the leader of a gang of robbers. “She and Gramps.”

“Gramps?”

“He is the one who found me as a baby, abandoned, and brought me to Dadan.”

“He didn’t raise you himself?” she asked.

Ace shook his head.

“Why not?”

Ace shrugged. “Maybe he’s too busy for that. Or he has a family of his own. I don’t know. He just stops by every once in a while to yell at me and hit me. It’s how he shows affection, I guess.”

“And you just call him Gramps?” Rouge asked. “You don’t know his name?”

Ace shook his head.

She asked some more questions, about his life in the forest, about his brothers – apparently, Shanks had mentioned Ace and Luffy were brothers – and more. Ace wasn’t sure why, but he kept on talking, something about her drawing it out. It was nice to have someone to talk to, someone who seemed genuinely interested without wanting anything from him. Not that he couldn’t talk to Marco, but talking to Rouge was different somehow. He wasn’t sure why.

Hours passed before he knew it. Rouge just let him talk, only asking a question every once in a while, but the more he talked, the less encouragement he needed. He had even mentioned him being a thief and she hadn’t batted an eyelid. The whole time, there was a soft smile on her face, like nothing made her happier than listening to Ace’s life.

When Ace finally left, he hoped that Marco hadn’t been waiting for him the whole time.

* * *

Keeping busy was what kept Shanks’ mind from drifting back to Benn. Since Rayleigh wasn’t there, he was in command so he needed to make sure everything went smoothly and everything was packed. They had several days of travelling ahead of them, back to Raftel, and Edward had provided food for on the road.

After her conversation with Ace, Rouge seemed distracted and lost in thoughts, so Shanks tried to disturb her has little as possible. He had caught bits of their conversation, but nothing that could confirm or deny that Ace might be the lost prince. He wondered what Rouge had heard. She didn’t seem sad, so chances were that Ace at least hadn’t disproved their theory.

While he was bursting of curiosity, he would have to wait and see if she confided in him.


	7. Chapter 6

Days passed after the tournament and the peace returned to the castle of Moby Dick. By now, everyone that didn’t live at the castle had left, except Ace, though he kind of lived there now too.

Marco had resumed teaching Ace how to swordfight and, in addition, how to joust. Which was why Ace found himself on a horse in full, ill fitting armour across from a crudely built fake knight with a bucket for a helmet and a broom for a lance. It would do for their purpose, though.

Ace didn’t mind that much that Marco insisted on sitting behind Ace to show him how to hold his lance, despite the fact that they had an audience. The knights and ladies present encouraged Ace as he spurred on the horse, and Marco held on to his arm to aim. Ace managed to hit his opponent’s shield, and everyone cheered.

With a grin, Ace guided his horse back to the place where he started to try again, when Thatch suddenly approached.

“Ace, you have a visitor,” he called.

Ace took off the helmet, glad to have that weight off his shoulders – literally. “I do? Who?” Maybe one of his brothers was here, he hoped. He missed them.

“Shanks.”

“Shanks?” Ace echoed, confused. He couldn’t say that he and Shanks were buddies or anything, as Ace had hardly been nice to him. Besides, Shanks had been here at the tournament, which wasn’t too long ago. Why would he be back? And, more importantly, why was he here for Ace?

“Did he say why?” he asked.

Thatch shrugged. “Not to me. Just that he’s here for you.”

Ace looked over his shoulder at Marco, who shrugged as well. He got off the horse, holding out his hand to help Ace to dismount as well. Still confused, but curious as well, Ace walked to the castle, followed by Marco.

They found Shanks in the throne room with Edward, both holding a glass of wine.

“There he is!” Shanks exclaimed when he saw Ace. “Hold on one sec.” He emptied his goblet, holding it out to the servant who stood ready with a carafe to refill it, and drank it once again. Then he sighed and turned to Ace and Marco. “Just the man I was looking for.”

“Why?” Ace asked. “You were here not too long ago.”

Shanks shrugged. “The queen wants to see you again.”

“And she sends you, one of her best knights, to fetch him?” Marco asked sceptically.

Shanks grabbed at his heart. “You flatter me. And yes. Her Majesty didn’t think Ace would come along with just anyone. But seeing we’re like two peas in a pot...”

Ace frowned. “We are?”

“Sure we are! So are you coming?”

“Why does she wants to see me?” Ace asked.

Shanks shrugged again. “I’m just the messenger boy. And also a delivery boy. So let’s go!”

Ace looked at Marco and then at Edward. He wasn’t sure what to do. Shanks obviously wanted him to come to Raftel to see the queen, for whichever reason. Marco had pointed out the kingdom on a map once, and it was hardly close by.

“You really have no idea why she wants to see me?” Ace asked hesitantly.

“Maybe she’s looking for a young lover,” Shanks said with a wink.

Ace made a face, not because Rouge was bad looking or unkind, but to him, she seemed more like a mother than anything else. “Tell her I politely decline then.” He turned around, taking Marco by the hand.

“Wait, wait, I was only kidding,” Shanks called after him, and Ace turned around. “Or I don’t know if I’m kidding, because I don’t know what she wants from you. All I know is that she very much enjoyed talking to you. So perhaps she wants to award you your weight in gold or something.”

“I have no interest in gold.”

“Oh, really?” Marco mixed in the conversation. “Do you remember how we met?”

“How did you meet?” Shanks asked, a little too interested and his eyebrows seemingly having a life of their own.

Ace ignored him. “That was different! You were a stupid knight. Still are.”

“Do I need to remind you of what you were doing before we came here?” Marco asked, amused.

“Shut up,” Ace muttered, turning back to Shanks, who was looking at him expectantly. “Fine, I’ll come. But Marco has to come too.”

“I was only sent to fetch you,” Shanks protested.

“So I’m once again not welcome at the queen’s? Should I start to feel insulted?” Marco asked. It was hard to tell if he was joking or seriously insulted.

“Do you have time to come anyway?” Shanks asked challengingly.

Marco opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it again. “No.”

“Look,” Shanks continued, “worst case scenario, I waste a few days of Ace’s time. We won’t do anything to harm him, since he’s under ol’ Edward here’s protection. So you have nothing to worry about.”

Ace looked at Marco again, then at Edward and finally, at Shanks. “Fine. I’ll come with you.”

“Splendid!” Shanks exclaimed. “We’ll leave at dawn tomorrow.” He made for the door, but then stopped in his tracks and turned around. “You know, let’s make it noon. I’m intending to get wasted tonight.”

* * *

Travelling with Ace was slightly awkward, because while Ace didn’t dislike him, he also didn’t seem to be a huge fan of Shanks. It was a little sad, though. If Ace really was the lost prince, Shanks would like to have a good bond with him. If Ace had grown up at the castle of Raftel, Shanks would have been one of his role models, like Rouge had said.

Ace also wasn’t much of a talker, but that was okay, because Shanks only needed someone to talk to. When Ace opened his mouth, though, his remarks were slightly below the belt.

“Have you heard anything from Benn?” he asked Shanks when they were sitting around a campfire the first evening of their journey.

“Nope,” Shanks said, trying to sound lightly.

“Have you tried to contact him?”

“Nope,” Shanks said again.

“But you rode all the way here to get me? Aren’t his lands not that far from Moby Dick?” Ace pressed.

“Look, not everyone finds a knight in shining armour to sweep you off your feet, okay?” Shanks said and sighed. “Sometimes you _are_ that knight and need to do your job. Benn is a castle lord, he needs to take care of his people. And I need to take care of the queen.”

Ace didn’t ask further, but it was clear he disapproved of the situation.

* * *

Ace had to admit he was relieved to see Raftel Castle looming up in the distance. He wasn’t sure if he would survive another day with Shanks. At least Shanks seemed to have fun.

At the castle, two stable boys took their horses, and Shanks led him inside. At the doors of the throne room, he was immediately let through by the guards, but when Ace wanted to follow him, Shanks stopped him.

“Just wait here one second, okay?” he said. Before Ace could reply, Shanks slipped through the doors, closing them behind him. The guards crossed their halberds, in case Ace would think about following him.

Unsure what to do, Ace let air escape from his mouth, placing his hand behind his head. “’Sup?” he asked the guards, who looked at each other.

Suddenly, the doors opened again, and Shanks’ head appeared. “You can come in now.”

Slightly confused by it all, Ace walked into the throne room, looking around. The room in general looked much like the one at Edward’s palace. It was made from dark grey stones, covering the floor and walls, while the ceiling was made of wood. To improve the acoustics in the room and to brighten the place, several tapestries hung from the walls. Daylight fell in through the large windows on either side of the room.

Rouge was sitting on the throne in the back of the room, clad in a beautiful white dress and a golden crown adorning her head.

However, while Ace noted all that, his attention was quickly drawn to a certain person in the room. The old man was dressed more fancily than Ace was used to, but it was definitely the same person. When he saw Ace, his eyes widened in shock.

“Gramps?” Ace asked, even more confused than before.

The shock wore off his Gramps’ face and his shoulders slumped as if he was resigning with his fate, though what fate, Ace didn’t understand. The grooves in his face seemed to deepen and he suddenly looked years older.

“I’ve heard enough,” Rouge’s ice cold voice suddenly resounded through the room. “Seize him.”

For a moment, Ace thought she was talking about him and he cursed Shanks for luring him here. However, as he made ready to defend himself, he saw that the guards weren’t approaching him, but Gramps.

“No!” he shouted, running towards them. He tried to pry Gramps loose, punching around him. He must have hit something, because one of the guards grabbed at his nose, letting go of Gramps.

Suddenly, Ace was tackled to the floor, pinned down to the cold, grey stones. Ace trashed around, cursing the person on top of him loudly as the guards led a cuffed Gramps away.

“Let go of me!” Ace shouted. “Let go of Gramps!”

The doors of the throne room slammed shut and finally, the weight moved off Ace. Jumping to his feet, Ace saw it had been Shanks who had pinned him down. Of course it was.

“Bring back Gramps!” he roared, jumping Shanks to hit him in the face. Shanks managed to prevent Ace from hurting him, but Ace wasn’t about to make it easy for him.

“Ace.” While she hadn’t raised her voice, the queen’s voice echoed through the room. This time, it was soft and gentle.

Somehow, the anger drained from Ace’s body and he suddenly felt extremely tired. Turning towards Rouge, he asked hoarsely, “Why?”

She rose from her seat and walked down the elevation on which the throne stood. In front of Ace, she stopped. “Do you know who that man is?”

“He’s my Gramps,” Ace whispered. He didn’t want to cry, even though he felt like it. Despite the fact that Gramps hit him over the head more times than he could count, he was still the man who found him, saved him. And Ace was pretty sure Gramps loved him.

She nodded absent-mindedly. “His name is Garp, duke of Foosha.”

Why did that name sound familiar? Ace frowned as he searched his mind, until the answer suddenly came to him. “Wait, so he’s Luffy’s grandpa?” He wanted to hit himself over the head now. He had been friends with Luffy for half their lives and they had never made the connection between their grandfathers, who apparently were one and the same.

Still, while that was an odd coincidence, it didn’t explain why Gramps had looked so defeated when he saw Ace, or why he was led away by guards. Ace felt the anger bubble up again. “Why did you take him prisoner?” he asked, his voice sounding strained.

Rouge closed her eyes for a second, turning around and walking back to her throne. When she was seated, she sighed, gesturing Ace to sit as well. Ace didn’t feel like indulging her, though, and remained standing, his arms crossed before his chest.

She nodded, as if she understood, and started talking. “Twenty years ago,” she started, “I had a son.” She had her eyes closed, as if that helped visualising the image. “Two month after he was born, he was taken from me. I never knew what happened to him, but I could never believe he was dead.”

She opened her eyes again and looked at Ace. “When I met you, I recognised a lot of my late husband in you, as Shanks no doubt remarked.” She smiled faintly. “And of myself, if I’m honest.”

Confused, Ace shook his head. “What are you even saying? My parents abandoned me! Gramps found me in the forest and took care of me!”

“You weren’t abandoned. You were taken from a loving home, by the man you call your Gramps,” Rouge said, a cold undertone in her voice again, but then her eyes softened. “You’re my son, Ace. You’re the lost prince of Raftel.”

Wildly, Ace shook his head. “I’m not! I’m no prince! I’m a... I’m a... I’m a thief. That’s it!”

“Then tell me this, Ace,” Rouge said, “if what I’m saying isn’t true, why didn’t Garp put up a fight?”

Ace opened his mouth to reply, but he didn’t have an answer. Gramps _always_ put up a fight, no matter what. So why didn’t he do that now?

His legs threatened to give in and the room seemed to be spinning around him. “It’s not true,” he whispered. “It’s not...” He took a few shaky breaths, trying to steady himself, before looking up at the queen. “I want to see him.”

A man with long grey hair and a goatee stepped forward, seemingly want to say something, but Rouge held up her hand. “Of course,” she said. “Shanks, bring him to his grandfather.” She immediately turned away, as if it hurt her to say it.

For now, though, Ace didn’t care. He just followed Shanks out of the throne room, grateful when Shanks didn’t start a conversation with him.

Shanks led him through several hallways, and then through a door with creaking hinges, down a staircase. The lower they went, the damper it became. It smelled like mould and Ace was pretty sure he saw a rat jumping away.

A guard holding a torch jumped to attention when he saw Shanks. “M’lord.”

“We’re here to see the prisoner that was just brought,” Shanks said.

The man nodded and handed Shanks the keys that had been dangling from his belt.

Shanks opened the door behind the man, his footsteps echoing around in the hallway. Finally, he stopped in front of a cell. Ace looked past him and saw Gramps sitting in the middle of the small room, his legs crossed and his arms in front of his chest. His back was straight and his eyes closed, looking more like himself again, ever proud, which relieved Ace.

When he heard them coming, Garp opened his eyes. “Red,” he said with a huff.

Shanks remained quiet, though Ace saw in his eyes that he wanted to say a lot. Instead, he turned to Ace. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

Ace nodded, though he didn’t see why he would need Shanks. As far as he was concerned, most of this situation was Shanks’ fault anyway. He was just relieved that Shanks left.

Still, now that he was alone with Gramps, he wasn’t sure what to say, so he was kind of happy that Garp was the one to break the silence.

“So, the queen must have told you what happened by now.”

“Is it true?” Ace asked, sounding colder than he intended, wondering briefly if he did get that from Rouge.

Garp closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. “Aye.”

Ace let himself slide down the damp wall, uncaring what it did to his clothes. “I don’t understand. Why would you take a baby?”

Garp remained silent for a moment, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “Roger,” he finally started, “was a rebel. He did not acknowledge the emperor, but his position couldn’t just be taken away from him, risking war. When Roger died, twenty years ago, he left an heir with Rouge. The emperor predicted trouble from Rouge, as she is just as much of a rebel as Roger was. Perhaps even more. She would be regent until you were old enough to become king yourself.

“To weaken her position, the young prince had to go. Rouge isn’t the type to remarry, so unlikely to have another child.” Garp sighed again. “I was assigned for the job. The intention was to kill you, but I couldn’t kill a baby. Though, if I’d known what I brat you’d become...” He scoffed, but didn’t finish his sentence, because it wasn’t true anyway, Ace knew that.

“So I took you,” Garp continued. “I couldn’t take you home, because that would raise questions, both with Rouge and the emperor. Which is why I left you with Dadan. You were supposed to be safe there, and not supposed to meet anyone linking you back to Rouge.”

“I met Marco,” Ace admitted. “I went to Edward’s castle, where I met Rouge.”

Garp hummed and didn’t reply.

Ace remained silent as well for a while, staring into nothing. Then he asked, without looking at his gramps, “So what happens now?”

Garp let out a humourless laugh. “Now? What do you think, boy? I’ve taken her child from her for twenty years. If she hangs me like a common criminal, it would be mild of her.”

Ace’s eyes widened. “She’ll... She’ll kill you?”

Garp shrugged.

“She can’t! I... She can’t!” Ace jumped to his feet and moved towards the door. There, he turned back to Garp. “I won’t let her!”

* * *

Shanks wasn’t sure how long the conversation was going to take, but he hadn’t expected Ace to rush past him so soon. Going in pursuit, Shanks followed Ace through the halls of the castle, wondering where Ace was going. However, Ace was fast, and at times, Shanks almost lost him.

When they arrived at the throne room, Ace didn’t slow down and ran towards the guards, who let him through immediately, probably per the queen’s order. Shanks followed him inside.

Rpuge rose from her throne when she saw Ace, her face brightening and holding open her arms invitingly. She moved forward to touch Ace, but he took a step back. Her face fell a little. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

Ace fell onto his knees, his face buried in the carpet. “Please don’t kill him,” he pleaded.

Rouge was taken aback a little by his behaviour, as was Shanks, and they exchanged a look.

“I know what he did was bad, but he is still my Gramps,” Ace continued, still keeping his head down. “He spared my life, so please spare his. I beg you.”

Her face softened and she reached down, touching his arm gently so that he looked up. “I hadn’t expected a different request from you. So I will spare his life, but only for your sake.”

He nodded, his face wet with tears. He wiped them away with the sleeve of his tunic. “Thank you.”

Her lips curled in a careful smile. “Please, come dine with me tonight. I’d like to get to know you better.”

But Ace shook his head. “I need to go,” he muttered. With that, he turned around and fled the throne room.

The look of distress and hurt on Rouge’s face wasn’t one Shanks would forget anytime soon. Anger bubbling up inside him, he once again pursued Ace.

He found Ace in the stable, where Ace ordered one of the stable boys to saddle his horse immediately.

“Where are you going?” Shanks called to him. “You’re Raftel’s prince, remember?”

“I never asked for that!” Ace bit, pulling the saddle from the stable boy’s hand when he moved too slowly. “I never asked for any of this! Moby Dick is my home, if anything... I’m leaving!”

He jumped onto the horse and rode out of the stable. Shanks had barely enough time to jump aside.  

“Ace!” Shanks called after him, every intention to follow him and drag his ass back to the throne room, when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He could feel Rayleigh’s calming presence, and Shanks closed his eyes.

“He’ll come back if he’s ready,” Rayleigh said.

“What if he’s never ready?”

“The information has come as a shock to him, you must understand. Whether he’ll ever want to be Raftel’s prince, I don’t know,” Rayleigh said thoughtfully. “But he won’t leave Garp to rot in prison. I’m sure of that.”

* * *

Ace rode on and on, not even noticing his own tiredness. His horse, however, did get weary at some point and by then Ace realised he was hungry as well. He also realised that he had left so fast that he didn’t have any food with him. Fortunately, he was quite adapted to that.

As he let his horse graze and drink, Ace managed to catch a few fishes in a nearby stream. It had been a long time since he had taken care of his own food. Sure, he had hunted along with the knights of Moby Dick a few times, but it was different. They had used hounds, and the cooks had been the ones to clean the game. There was less of a challenge – catch something or starve – less getting your hands dirty. Ace realised he missed that.

Who had he be kidding? He may not be a prince, but he also wasn’t a knight. As he told Rouge, he was a thief. A lowlife robber. That was it.

That didn’t mean that he didn’t love Marco, though, because he did. And Marco loved him too, he was sure of that. But did he want to stay with Marco forever? Want to live the life of a knight? Become a knight one day even, perhaps?

Or did he want to be a prince? Live an even more luxurious life by staying with Rouge?

Or did he want to go back to his old life? Fighting each day to survive, but with complete freedom?

There was only one person who he could talk about this, who didn’t have anything to win or lose by Ace’s decision.

Once Ace had eaten and rested a little, he rode on, uncaring that it was night time. He rose as long as he could, as long as his horse could, before he rested again, yet the journey took too long for his taste.

Finally, the monastery appeared at the horizon, and Ace spurred his exhausted horse on once more. As soon as Sabo saw him, he beckoned a novice to take care of the horse. He must have noticed the distressed look on Ace’s face, or just knew him too well, because he took Ace inside without saying or asking a thing.

Inside the small cell in which Sabo slept, he gestured for Ace to sit on the bed and sat next to him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Ace started talking, beginning with the tournament where he met Rouge, before moving on to Shanks coming to fetch him and finally begging for Garp’s life.

“So you’re Gramps is the same person as Luffy’s grandfather?” Sabo asked with a frown when Ace was done.

Ace, who was lying with his head on Sabo’s lap by now, shot him a deadpanned look. “Not really the point of the story.”

“I know, it’s just a coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Sabo!” Ace sat up. “I’m a prince! What am I supposed to do with that?”

Sabo shrugged. “Join a monastery?”

“Sabo!”

“Look,” Sabo said, standing up. “You’re exhausted. Your dark circles have dark circles. Sleep here tonight, and we’ll see where you’re at in the morning.”

Ace nodded, as his body only now seemed to realise how tired he was. Slowly, he laid back down. “Can I sleep here?”

“Sure. I’ll sleep somewhere else, though, so I won’t wake you for prayers.”

Despite everything, Ace had to grin. “With Koala?”

“Such sinful thoughts!” Sabo exclaimed mock-indignantly.

“I didn’t say anything, Brother Pervert.”

Sabo opened his mouth to reply, but then closed his mouth again and sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing it’s Vespers soon.”

* * *

When Ace woke up the next morning, Sabo was lying next to him, staring at the ceiling. “Morning,” he said when he saw Ace was awake.

“Morning,” Ace mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“The abbot wants to see you asap.”

“He does? Why?”

“He’ll tell you.”

Ace groaned. “It was someone saying that exact same thing about Rouge what got me into this mess.”

Sabo chuckled. “Well, he’s not your dad, if that’s what you’re afraid of. He could have been, but he isn’t.”

“Could have been?”

Sabo waved his hand. “Long story. Anyway, he wants to see you as soon as you’ve eaten.”

 Ace didn’t need to be told twice, as his stomach started to rumble violently. After living on berries and an odd fish here and there, he was craving something with more substance. Meat preferably. Then he remembered where he was, and he sighed. No meat in monasteries. Still, bread and cheese sounded good right about now.

After he had stuffed himself, Ace made his way to the abbot’s chamber. Even though he was expected, he hesitated before he knocked. A gruff voice told him to enter.

Ace hadn’t seen the abbot from up close that often, only at meals a few times. The red tattoo covering the left half of his face kept intriguing him. Why was it there? Sabo didn’t know, in any case, Ace had checked, and he didn’t dare to ask the abbot himself.

“Ace, welcome.” The abbot was sitting at his desk, scribbling something down on a piece of parchment. When he was done, he gestured for Ace to sit across from him.

There was a moment of silence, and Ace moved nervously on his chair.

Finally, the abbot folded his hands in front of him and said, “Sabo told me what happened to you.”

“He did?”

“Yes, but only because the story is relevant to me. Tell me, Ace, what is going to happen to Garp?” He leaned in, looking expectantly.

Ace shrugged. “I don’t know. She... The queen won’t kill him, she promised. But I don’t know what will happen.”

The abbot hummed, leaning back in his chair.

“But why, if I may ask, is this relevant to you?” Ace asked.

The abbot placed both his index fingers against his lips, pursing them in thought. “Because he is my father.”

“Your fa-” Ace stopped mid-word when he realised the impact of these words. “Wait! Then are you Luffy’s father?” Sabo had always referred to him as just ‘the abbot’, never mentioned a name. Or if he did, Ace had never made the connection to Luffy’s father, who had left Foosha because he didn’t want to be a duke.

“I wasn’t always a monk.” The abbot, or Dragon of Foosha, rose from his seat and walked over to the only window in the room, his hands resting on his back.

“Does Luffy know you’re here? Did you...” Ace swallowed. “Did you know about me?”

“No, and yes and no,” Dragon said. “I know Garp was coming here to see you, I just didn’t know who you were. This monastery was founded much later. I assumed you were a stray he picked up somewhere. In spite of his usual behaviour, he is quite a softy at heart, as you no doubt know.” The abbot walked to a carafe that was standing on a table in the corner, pouring them both some wine. “As for Luffy, he doesn’t need me,” he continued as he handed Ace a goblet. “But he does need his grandfather. Therefore, I need you to go back to Raftel and make sure Garp doesn’t rot in prison. I wouldn’t ask this if I didn’t know you were already considering it.”

Ace took a sip, but the sudden wave of guilt made the wine taste bitter. Of course he had to go back for Gramps. He had been selfish by running away, leaving Garp to, as Dragon put it, rot in a cell. He needed to go back.

Slowly, he nodded.

“Good,” Dragon said. “Sources tell me that Luffy isn’t far from here. Take Sabo and go fetch him, then go to Raftel. You are the only person the queen will listen to. She’s a hard headed one. We were once betrothed, you know.”

So that’s what Sabo had meant.

“But she decided she’d rather marry Roger. Which suited me just fine, as you can see.” Dragon gestured around. “But I digress. The point is that someone has to talk to Rouge about Garp. Of course, the emperor will try to do the same, as Garp is his man, but that only increases the chance of her wanting to chop off his head after all. So you should do it. If not for mine or his sake, then for your own and Luffy’s.”

 Ace nodded and finished the wine, which somehow tasted a lot better now that he had made his resolve. He would make sure Garp did not stay in the dungeon of Rouge’s – his mother’s – castle forever. For now, he had a goal, and he didn’t have to think about what or who he was.

Outside, Sabo was waiting for him with two horses. Ace greeted his own, petting its nose. “Did you know the abbot is Luffy’s dad?”

“I did.”

“Did you tell Luffy?’

“I did.”

“What did he say?”

Sabo sighed as he seemed to recall the conversation. “He thought his dad was an actual dragon.”

Ace burst into laughter, because that was indeed how he imagined that conversation would go.

“But he never knew his dad, so he didn’t seem to care much. He just wants to have adventures,” Sabo continued, an endeared look on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?

“That the abbot is Luffy’s dad? Dunno, never came up. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“I thought it didn’t matter,” Ace said with a sigh as he mounted his horse. “Who your parents are, I mean. Now it turns out that it does.”

“At least you always have us,” Sabo said, elbowing Ace in the side.

Ace smiled. “That I do.”

They rode in silence for a while, when Sabo said, “Ace, I think you should go see Marco first. I know you’re dying to tell him,” he continued before Ace could interrupt. “I also know you’re confused about who you are and stuff. But Marco loves you, and you love him, so that’s what’s important here. You’re trying to figure out whether you’re a thief, or a knight, or  a prince. But what if you don’t have to choose?”

“So I can be a thieving knight-prince, uniting Raftel and Moby Dick with a royal wedding?” Ace said sarcastically, when he pulled a thoughtful face. “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“You see?” Sabo asked smugly. “I’m super smart.” Before Ace could contradict him, he continued, “So go fetch your man and meet me and Lu at Raftel Castle.”

* * *

Marco looked up from his game of chess with Pops when Ace suddenly stormed in. “Ace,” he exclaimed, surprised. “I hadn’t expected you back so soon.”

Ace didn’t reply immediately, and something about the look on his face alarmed Marco.

“What happened? What did Rouge want?”

“I’ll tell you,” Ace said, “but first kiss me.”

Seeing no reason to object, Marco did as he was asked, trying to ignore an amused looking Pops. When he let go of Ace, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Ace’s head made a movement between a nod and a shake, leaving Marco none the wiser. However, when he told his story, things started to make sense.

“So I have to go back to plead with the queen, before the emperor sends someone,” Ace concluded his story. “Will you come with me?” he asked Marco.

Marco looked at Pops, who nodded his head solemnly.

“In cases like this, some diplomacy might come in handy,” he said. “Especially since Ace is a hothead just like his parents.”

Ace stared at him for a moment, when he said slowly, “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I had a hunch,” Pops admitted. “Especially when Rouge started show such interest in you. But I wasn’t sure.”

“And you don’t mind?” Ace asked, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Since I technically belong to your rival.”

“Son, we didn’t care about your ancestry before, so why should we start now?” Edward plucked at his moustache. “Nothing has changed, has it, Marco?”

Marco smiled and shook his head, taking Ace’s hand. Ace looked relieved.

“Now, it sounds like there is some rush behind this, so you better get going,” Pops said. “Go to the kitchen and tell them to pack you some food, and leave as soon as you can. Tell Rouge that if she needs anything, I’m willing to assist her in any way possible.”

Somehow, his words sounded more grave than Marco had expected, but he nodded anyway. Taking Ace by the hand, he abandoned his chess game and left the king’s chambers.

As they walked down the hall, Marco said, “You know this really doesn’t change anything, right?”

Ace nodded, but somehow, that wasn’t enough. Marco stopped in his tracks, forcing Ace to do the same. “I love you.”

Ace’s face brightened so much that Marco melted a bit inside. “I know,” he said, biting his lip. “I love you too.”

* * *

Shanks had expected a delegate from the emperor at some point, but he had hoped that the word would take a little longer to go out than a few days. But of course, locking up a duke isn’t something that you can keep under wraps for long.

And if _someone_ had to arrive, Shanks would have preferred anyone over Red Dog Sakazuki. Preferably Kuzan, or he could have even lived with Borsalino. But there was something about Sakazuki that he didn’t trust, even if he had never been anything but courteous.

But of course it had to be Lord Sakazuki to arrive, currently bowing down to the queen. Being the example of diplomacy he was, Shanks remained in his place, acknowledging the lord with a nod of his head. It may also have helped that Rayleigh had placed a warning hand on his shoulder.

“My Queen, I’m glad to see you’re doing well,” Sakazuki said as he rose.

“I doubt you’ve come all the way here to see how I’m doing,” Rouge replied coolly.

“Straight to business, as always, I see. You were never one for idle chitchat. Though, I think you know perfectly well why I’m here.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Very well.” Sakazuki cleared his throat. “Word has reached His Imperial Majesty that you have imprisoned one of his men, Garp, Duke of Foosha.”

The doors of the throne room suddenly opened and a very red faced and panting messenger came in. “Beg your pardon, Your Majesty! I have an urgent message.”

The queen beckoned him to come forward, and he whispered something in her ear, bowing as he moved away. The bright look on her face told Shanks all he needed to know. There was only one person who would make her look like that.

“Send him in,” she commanded.

The messenger left, bowing, and the next time the door opened, four figures strode in. Shanks had expected Ace, of course, and perhaps Marco, but he was surprised to see Brother Sabo as well, and Luffy.

When he noticed Shanks, Luffy beamed at him, waving. Shanks felt a grin creeping up his face and resisted the urge to wave back, giving him a nod instead. It was amazing how Luffy could drain the tension out a room without even trying.

Luffy seemed to realise that the situation was serious after glancing at the other three and tried to pull a serious face, failing miserably.

“I’m glad you came back,” Rouge said to Ace, smiling fondly. “My lord Sakazuki, this is Ace, and you know of course Sir Marco and Sir Luffy. And Brother...”

“It’s Sabo, my lady.”

She smiled again. “Of course. Ace told me a lot about you.”

Sabo bowed.

“Your Majesty, is it too much to ask to have a private audience with you?” Sakazuki asked, sounding irritated. “Especially since these people have nothing to do with the matter at hand.”

“On the contrary, my lord,” Rouge replied. “Ace is the very reason I imprisoned Garp. You see, Garp has admitted to taking my child when he was a baby. Ace is that very same child.”

Some kind of emotion flashed across Sakazuki’s face, akin to anger, but it was gone as fast as it came. “Is that so?” he asked coolly.

“I wouldn’t imprison a duke for some trifle reason, sir,” Rouge said in the same tone. “You may think of me as but a foolish woman, but I am still a queen.”

“Those are your words, my lady,” Sakazuki said with a bow. “But you say he has admitted to this. Has he had a fair trial?”

“Not yet.”

“Since you accuse him of such a heinous act, shouldn’t this trial be overseen by someone impartial?”

“Someone like the emperor, you mean?” Rouge scoffed. “The very same person who probably ordered for my child to be taken?”

“That is once again a grave accusation, my Queen. Do you have anything to back that up?”

“Garp is many things, but he is no fool,” Rouge said. “He wouldn’t have acted on his own. However, fool or no, he cares about Ace.”

“You keep calling him Ace,” Sakazuki said, a sly grin on his face. “Wasn’t your son named Roger?”

The queen gave him a cool look. “Don’t be daft, my lord. Would you let a stolen child keep their own name? Of course not, you change it to ward off suspicion. But there is no doubt in my mind that Ace is my son.”

“Unfortunately, you’ll have to come with more proof than your gut feeling to convince others of your case.”

“In that case...” Rouge turned to the guards. “Bring the prisoner here.”

They saluted and left the room. When the doors opened a few minutes later, Garp was led inside. His fancy clothes were dirty and his hands and feet were chained. He looked tired, yet he walked forward with his head held high.

“Gramps,” Ace whispered, and Shanks saw Marco take his hand inconspicuously.

Garp paused for  a moment, his eyes resting on Ace and Luffy. Then he took a deep breath and faced the queen.

“You know why you are locked up in the dungeon,” Rouge said to him. “Would you like to enlighten Lord Sakazuki?”

“I would prefer not to, my lady.”

“You have a chance to correct me if I’m wrong,” Rouge continued. “Is Ace the baby you took from Raftel Castle twenty years ago?”

“That is assuming he took a baby in the first place,” Sakazuki protested. “As far as I understood, you found a bloodied blanket. That seems to me like proof that the child was killed.”

Shanks felt anger rising. He had relived that night too many times in his dreams. The anger, the agony, the hopelessness... Sakazuki had no right to put the queen through that again!

Rouge lifted up her hand, and he stopped. “Or it’s a clever trick to put us off the scent,” she said coolly. “No remains were ever found, and the blood might as well have belonged to an animal. And why take my child only to kill it later?”

“Perhaps the culprit didn’t have time for that.”

She scoffed. “No time to kill a baby? There is little quicker done.”

“Enough!” Ace suddenly called out, a commanding air radiating off him. He took a step forward. “Look, my lady, I don’t care whose child I am. I know who I am, and who I love. All I ask is to be merciful to Gramps. Because that’s who he is to me.”

The queen looked quite taken aback, as did Sakazuki. However, on Garp’s face a fond smile could be detected.

Sakazuki recovered quickly though, his face turning into a grimace as he clenched his jaw. He had probably realised too how much Ace resembled Roger.

Rouge rose from her seat, her eyes soft, and she reached out her hands. Hesitantly, Ace stepped forward, allowing her to touch his face.

“You look so much like you father,” Rouge whispered, so soft that Shanks, who was standing next to the throne, could barely hear it. “He would have been so proud.”

Ace opened his mouth to reply, when Shanks suddenly noticed a glistering from the corner of his eye. Too late he realised what it was as the dagger flew through the air, hitting Ace in the back. He fell forward, collapsing, and Rouge could barely catch him, shock written on her face.

For a moment, everyone stood frozen, struck by horror. Shanks’ eye darted to Sakazuki, who seemed pleased with himself, even if he signed his own death warrant.

Then, everything suddenly started to move really fast. Sakazuki’s men, who had been waiting in the back of the room, sprung into action to defend their lord. Sabo, the monk, somehow obtained a spear, his face a angry grimace as he started to attack the soldiers, Luffy following his example with an angry yell. Rouge’s own guards also went into the offence, protecting their lady.

The queen sunk to the ground, taking Ace’s body with her in her trembling arms, her face wet with tears as she called his name over and over.

Shanks watched the scene in front of him with wide eyes, his breathing heavy with anger. Rouge had just found her son again, and anyone trying to taking him from her again would pay.

He soon enough found his goal amidst the fighting mass.

Calmly, Shanks walked forward, parrying a few strikes aimed at him, but hardly paying attention to them. One of Sakazuki’s soldiers jumped in his way, and Shanks killed him without mercy. He barely noticed a dark haired figure walking into the throne room, moving straight up to Rouge and Ace.

Sakazuki noticed Shanks soon enough and he struck his sword at him. Shanks parried it with ease. Not for a moment Shanks took his eyes off Sakazuki, as if they were the only ones in the room. The chaos in the room turned into white noise as their swords smashed together, hit after hit, sparks flying everywhere.

Bodies were starting to cover the floor, and Shanks stepped over them on instinct. Nothing would stop him from avenging Ace.

Sakazuki’s sword swung through the air again, wounding Shanks in the arm, as he had no armour on to protect himself. However, Shanks had anger on his side. When Sakazuki struck again, Shanks dove underneath his sword, thrusting his own weapon forward.

Sakazuki stilled, a look of surprise on his face as the cold blade passed through him. Life rushed from his body and his legs caved, so Shanks was the only thing holding him up. Shanks pulled his sword back, pulling it from Sakazuki’s body, who slumped on the ground.

The whole room stilled, everyone, friend and foe, staring at the lifeless body, but no one moved.

Despite killing Sakazuki, the anger wouldn’t leave Shanks’ body. He was breathing heavily, his ears tingling as all sounds seemed to blur together.

Then, the bloodied sword was taken from his hand, and Shanks closed his eyes as he felt Rayleigh’s presence behind him. The anger drained from him, and suddenly, he just felt mentally exhausted.

“Take him,” Shanks heard Rayleigh say, “and leave.”

Footsteps rushed forward, and when Shanks opened his eyes, Sakazuki’s men were collecting the bodies of their own, including the one of Sakazuki himself. Rouge’s guards did the same among their own men.

Turning around, Shanks saw Rouge cradle Ace in her arm, still weeping. Sabo, Luffy, and Marco were standing next to her, looking distressed. A dark haired man was crouched next to Ace’s body.

“He’ll make it, right, Traffy?” Luffy asked, blubbering. “He won’t die, right, Traffy? Traffy?”

The dark haired man – Traffy? – ignored him and continued with his work.

Yasopp rushed into the room, followed by two servants carrying a stretcher. He hastily joined Traffy, who was no doubt a doctor too, and they ordered the servants to put Ace’s body onto the stretcher, before rushing back out of the room.

Rouge covered her face with her hand, crying desperately. Rayleigh kneeled next to her and wrapped his arms around her. Looking up, his eyes met Shanks’, and his look seemed to want to tell Shanks something, though Shanks wasn’t sure what it was.

Moving automatically, he helped to carry the bodies away of wounded soldiers, and later those of the dead. Once that was done and servants were busy cleaning the bloodstains away, Shanks retreated to his room.

He had been offered help for his arm, but he had declined. Once he was alone, he took off his shirt and examined the wound. It wasn’t too bad, he decided, and after washing it, he managed to put a bandage on it, pulling it tight with the help of his teeth. Yasopp would later kill him for it, but he was too busy with Ace and the soldiers to worry about such a small inconvenience.

* * *

A loud pounding noise woke him, and Shanks opened his eyes. He didn’t remember falling asleep, only sitting down on the bed, but he must have. He was still shirtless, the bandage around his arm soaked with blood.

The knocking stopped, and instead, the door opened, revealing Makino. “Where were you?” she asked, sounding annoyed.

“I fell asleep,” he admitted.

Her lips pulled taut in a thin line. “The queen wishes to see you.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Shanks nodded, rubbing his face. “Any news about Ace?” he asked.

She shook her head, biting her lip as to stop herself from crying. “The doctors say it can go either way.”

“That dark haired man, who is he?”

“His name is Trafalgar Law, a friend of Luffy, apparently, and the one of the best surgeons in the known world. If he can’t safe him...”

Shanks rose, taking her in his arms. He had known Makino since they were little, when Roger had taken him in. She had taught him a lot about how to behave to courtiers, and how to be one. Aside from the queen, she was the most important woman in Shanks’ life.

She still blamed herself for losing the prince all these years ago, he knew that, even if it was untrue. To have found him and lose him again, it would break her, like it would the queen.

She trembled in his arms, taking shaky breaths to calm herself down. Her hand caressed his upper arm, until she felt the bandages. Stepping back, she frowned. ”Have you tried to bandage yourself again? Yasopp will be angry.”

“Yasopp had better things to do.”

“You’re still bleeding!”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” he said absent-mindedly.

“Still, you can’t go to the queen like that.” Sniffling, Makino started to undo the bandages with a grim look on her face. Shanks let her, not only because she wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway, but also because she could use the distraction.

Shanks would like some distraction right now as well. It wasn’t hard to imagine why Rouge wanted to see him. Whether Ace lived or died, it was war.

If he died, and Shanks prayed the good Lord that he wouldn’t, Rouge would want to avenge his death. It wasn’t enough that Sakazuki was dead. He had only acted on the emperor’s orders. It had been clear that he had known about the scheme to kill the prince twenty years ago, and he had thought that Garp had succeeded in that act. Garp had fooled both friend and foe by raising Ace far away.

So Sakazuki had had no choice but to take matters into his own hands, knowing that if Garp hadn’t been able to kill Ace before, he definitely wouldn’t have the heart now. In the end, the whole ordeal had been the emperor’s plan to safeguard his empire. And even if it wasn’t, if Garp and Sakazuki had acted on their own, Rouge would want to see blood.

On the other hand, if Ace lived, the emperor would be the one to initiate the war. He would want revenge for the killing of his man, and Rouge would never hand over Shanks without a fight.

A war had been brewing for years, and the recent events had only escalated its coming.

When Makino was done bandaging him, he said, “Could you tell the queen I’ll be there as soon as I can? There is something I need to do first.”

“Don’t let her wait too long,” Makino replied, a worried frown on her face. “This is a hard time for her.”

“I know. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Makino nodded and walked to the door. There, she turned around, tears in her eyes. “What if he dies, Shanks? What will happen then?”

“The queen will attack the emperor, trying to avenge her son or die trying. And if she survives...” He hesitated before continuing. “She’ll be a broken woman.”

Makino covered her face with her hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He can’t die, Shanks. He can’t.”

He walked up to her, caressing her arms. “Remember who his parents are. He’s strong.”

She nodded, pulling herself together by taking deep breaths. Then she turned around and left without  word.

With a sigh, Shanks sat down at his desk, grabbing a piece of parchment and dipping a goose feather into the ink. War was inevitable, and there was someone who had to know about it as soon as possible.

Benn’s men were still in the emperor’s army, unbeknownst to them what had happened to their home, or they would have deserted already. However, if war indeed came, and the emperor found out about Benn having sworn loyalty Rouge, he would not take kindly to Benn’s men, so Shanks had to warn him.

After having scribbled a hasty letter, the ink couldn’t dry fast enough, and putting on a tunic, Shanks made his way through the halls to the garrison to see the captain of the guard.

“I need you to pick a handful of your best men,” Shanks said to him. “I need an elite team. Can you do that?”

“Of course, sir, but why?”

“I need them to deliver this letter to Lord Benn, and do exactly as he says.”

The captain knew better than to question him when he was serious, fortunately, so he just nodded and took the letter.

“Tell them to leave as soon as they can and to make haste!” Shanks called after him. Then, he hastened himself back to the castle, moving through the halls to the queen’s quarters. Knocking on the door, he waited until he was called in.

Rouge was standing with her back to him, looking out the window. The white dress she had been wearing before had been replaced with a deep pink one, no doubt because the first had been covered in blood. Ace’s blood.

Rayleigh was standing leaning against the wall, a grim look on his face.

“You took your time,” Rouge said after a moment of silence.

“I apologise, my lady. I had to tell Sir Benn what you’re about to tell me.”

She turned around. Nothing about her face showed that she had been crying before. It was a mask, or perhaps grimace was a better word. “That it’s war?”

“Indeed. His men are with the emperor, and I wanted to give him a chance to fetch them before word reached Sengoku about Sakazuki being dead and Benn being your man now,” he explained. “If, or rather when, war breaks out, they’ll be hostages in the best case scenario. In the worst case, sitting ducks.”

“You think that he’ll be able to save them by himself?” Rayleigh asked.

“I’ve send a few of our soldiers along to aid him.”

“So it’s double or nothing.” It was an observation rather than a judgement. Rayleigh plucked at his goatee like he always did when he was lost in thoughts.

“Benn will bring the men back,” Shanks said confidently.

“Your faith in him is admirable,” Rouge said. There was a hint of a smile on her face, though it still looked sad. “You’ve never given me a reason to doubt your gut feeling, so I won’t start now. And I do hope that when Sir Benn comes back, he’ll be willing to fight for me.”

“Of course he will, my Queen. Like we all will.”

She smiled, closing her eyes. “I knew this day would come. Just not that it would come like this.” She turned back to the window. “The not knowing what happened to my son was the worst part. And now I’m in the same situation again. Will he live or will he die? Do you know what the last thing he said was? ‘Thank you for loving me.’ Of course, I don’t know if that was aimed at me, or his friends, but...” She choked back a sob.

“Of course it was meant for you as well,” Shanks said.

She smiled sadly again. “Thank you. You’re always so kind. Not a day passes by that I’m not glad my husband took you in.”

Slightly embarrassed, Shanks bowed his head in thanks.

Suddenly, the doors burst open and Makino came rushing in, her cheeks flustered. “My Queen! I’m sorry to barge in like this...” She took a few breaths to get her breathing under control, panting heavily. Then she hastily made a curtsey.

“No matter, Makino. What is it? Is there word about Ace?” Rouge asked eagerly, yet sounding frightened.

Makino looked up, her eyes glistening with tears. “Yes, my lady. Your son is awake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the story is over for now, there is a very good chance that there will be a sequel in the future.


End file.
